


Merciless No More

by KnightInRainbowArmour



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-12 05:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 79,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18440204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightInRainbowArmour/pseuds/KnightInRainbowArmour
Summary: She's heard stories of the ruthless pirate known across the seas as The Widow... but never had she dreamed she'd come face to face with the epitome of evil inside a rundown tavern in Port Royal.orVanessa's found herself stuck in a downwards spiral and Charity saves her in more ways than one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I totally let this get away from me... I'd originally set out to make this a short one, three or four chapters at the most. But you know me. The chapters are going to be a bit longer than I usually like them being but hopefully that won't throw anyone off.  
> This is completely AU of course, but I tried to stick with some canon storylines here and there.  
> I would also just like to thank ramblingsofagaysian for putting up with all my shit with this.

 

The lights of the harbour flicker with gentle glows of orange light in the distance, blearily visible through the thick fog that has rolled its way inland off the warm sea through the course of the early spring evening, settling in like a dense blanket over the town on the shore line. A hasty scrambling of two sets of feet, thudding against the soggy ground on the narrow track that leads down the centre of the town, obscures the rush of waves against the sandy beach half a mile away.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this, V.” Tracy whispers nervously, trying to keep her voice low from prying ears within the empty darkness around them. “You know what kind of people are down there this time of night.”

Vanessa scoffs, shooting an almost exasperated glare over her shoulder at the other woman. “Look,” she starts, tugging Tracy faster towards the town. “We’ve been holed up in that house for nearly a month.” leaving the dirt track, she steers them down more solid ground, a house approaching in the distance. “And I’m not sure how much longer I can keep my sanity with _him_ , there, too.”

“Vanessa.” Tracy warns, all too familiar with the obvious direction the conversation’s heading in.

“I don’t mean Mark.” Vanessa snaps, turning on Tracy suddenly. “I mean dad.” She spits the words like they’re poison, sour and fermenting in her mouth. “He clicks his fingers and expects us to follow him to the other side of the sea like our own lives mean nothing to him.” She tries to swallow down the anger, but it chokes painfully in her throat.

“V…” Tracy sighs, squeezing her sister’s hand in her own as her face twists into a pitiful expression. “He was only trying-”

Vanessa shakes her head, already dragging Tracy down the road, deeper into the town and away from the mansion on the hillside. She can’t listen to the same excuses anymore, sick of the obvious blindness the younger of the pair has when it comes to Frank and his unlawful judgement. “I just want to see what the night life’s like here.”

“You’ve long since past the age of being a child.” Tracy laughs gently, already relenting to the idea of exploring their new home.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.” Vanessa says, gesturing towards a tavern neatly tucked away between what she assumes to be a butcher’s and, god she hopes she’s wrong, a brothel. Women in tattered dresses, low cut busts with slits up to the tops of their thighs, line the street outside the shifty looking tavern, music and laughter emanating from inside. “A few drinks, then we can go back, an’ no one has to know we ever left the house.” She says shrugging, already walking across the street without waiting for a reply.

Tracy hurries after her, throwing worried glances over her shoulder. “Two drinks.” She says, chasing Vanessa inside the building, finding her already shoving her way through the crowds towards the bar as though she’s been brought up in this world and not one of lavish luxury.

Vanessa feels more than one set of eyes immediately train on her the second she walks into the tavern, but her own are glued to the array of grimy bottles that line the wall behind the bar, flickering candle light highlighting the golden liquid within. “Two of those.” She says, pointing at the first bottle she notices, and drops a stack of coins into the older woman’s hand. The barmaid allows her jaw to drop, mouth gaping with a flustered nod as she wordlessly retrieves Vanessa’s drinks.

It’s been a while since Vanessa has allowed herself to feel this free, to have fun and throw all caution to the wind. The month’s been long and gloomy, a heavy weight forcing her into a cold shell of the woman she’d once been. She’d made a mistake in a world where there was only room for perfection, a notion which Frank prided himself on, and as a consequence, he’d ripped Vanessa from an emerging life that could have been something akin to that he’d wished for her.

The three of them, along with some of Franks finest servants had found themselves crossing the Atlantic a month ago, creating a new life amongst the colonies, Frank’s position within the navy having played a bigger part in that than Vanessa had first thought.

The barmaid interrupts her stream of thought, placing two filthy glasses down in front of her and she takes them with a soft ‘thank you. “Not seen you ‘round ‘ere before, love. New in town?” The elderly woman leans against the bar, propping her chin up with a closed fist.

Vanessa doesn’t hesitate in replying, an eagerness to start up a conversation with someone so completely opposite of who she is ripples through her. “Just moved here with my family a month ago.” She says and trails her finger up the side of her glass in thought.

The barmaid nods her understanding, arching an eyebrow at Vanessa. “Ah, yes, the Governor’s daughters.” She shoots her eyes between her and Tracy thoughtfully. “You aught be careful, mind.” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning further across the bar so Vanessa can hear her. “‘Specially tonight of all nights.”

Frowning, Vanessa leans back slightly, an overwhelming smell of liquor spills from the other woman in almost nauseating waves. “Why’s that?” She asks, despite herself.

Busying herself with a disgustingly stained rag, the barmaid wipes at spills along the surface of the bar beside her. “News travels fast round ‘ere. The Merciless docked a few hours ago and trust me when a say this, you two,” she waves an almost accusing finger at Vanessa and Tracy, “you two don’t want to be in here when the crew land.”

“What’s the Merciless?” Tracy pipes up ignorantly.

The old lady sneers her amusement at their naivety. “Lady Tate’s ship.” She states with such simplicity that the tone makes Vanessa feel insulated. Her face must show her confusion, though, because a barked laugh is being thrown in her face. “ _Pirates_.”

The fear that spikes in her gut is quickly washed away with rolling excitement that has the hairs on the back of her neck and arms standing to attention. Vanessa’s never even seen a pirate in her life, only having read about them in books that her tutor had given her when she was younger. Frank had spoken about them with such disdain, as though even the mere suggestion that they were even subhuman was atrocious. It’s why, in that moment, with a need to spite him with every bone in his body, Vanessa’s interest is piqued beyond her own comprehension.

“Tell you what,” the barmaid interrupts her train of thought with a smug, knowing laugh. “You go get yourself comfortable and I’ll fetch the rest of that bottle over for your generosity.” She says, swinging the filthy bottle between two fingers in the direction of her till. “An’ if you want, I’ll tell you all about The Widow. But then you ‘ave to leave. It’s not safe for your kind in here if they show up.”

Vanessa nods her head fervently and begins to steer her sister away from the bar. Scoffing, Tracy follows suit, taking a cautious sip of her drink. “Dad’s gonna kill us, y’know.” She leads Vanessa over to a hidden table in the back corner of the room, out of sight enough that if anyone did happen to wander in with connections to their father, they wouldn’t be easily recognised, at least, not at first.

Vanessa clutches her dress in her hands and shuffles the layers out of her way, making room on the chair for an actual part of her body to make contact. “But he won’t, not unless you say something.” She gives her younger sister a pointed look before draining the last of her drink in one. She shifts slightly, trying to get comfortable, but her corset digs in bluntly at the back where it meets the chair and she resigns herself to slouching over the table.

Tracy laughs, holding her hands up in defence. “No time to talk about myself when I’m too busy with all that wedding nonsense.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes hard enough to cause a dull ache behind them. “You agreed to all that ‘nonsense.’”

Tracy’s eyes drop to her hands, a nail picking at a deep gash in the surface of the table top with her ring finger, the diamond catching the dull yellow light of the room. “Yeah, well.” She shrugs with very little enthusiasm. “He’s a nice fella.”

Humming out her agreement, Vanessa slumps further in her chair, feeling oddly comfortable in the alien environment. The loud, ruckus laughter around them is infectious almost, and she feels something light and airy bubbling somewhere deep in her chest that makes her almost want to join in with the men who look just as filthy and grimy as their glasses. They’re obviously sailors, visitors from other islands, though she couldn’t imagine any of her father’s navy colleagues ever visiting such a place and Vanessa suddenly realises how questionable the tavern really is.

Her eyes dart around the room, dotting between a group of men gambling at one table, another table has a woman splayed out across its surface with a fat and hairy, and quite obviously a pirate if the brand on his wrist is anything to go by, between her legs. But despite this, she doesn’t feel unsafe as she supposes she should do – two women alone at night, pose for easy targets, of course. There’s an elderly man sat at a decaying piano, joyfully playing a song she doesn’t recognise with one hand, the other amputated, with a group of women dancing around him. It makes her smile, something she knows she hasn’t done in a while and the unused muscles in her cheeks stretch stiffly.

This is something she’d been used to once before. Before Frank had shipped them off halfway across the earth, before she’d made a terrible decision one night in a place just like this, before she’d had her son torn from her arms only moments after giving birth. A life like this one had been what she’d always wanted, not the violence and the criminality of it, of course, but the freedom to be whomever she’d wanted to be.

“What’re you thinking about?” Tracy asks, yanking Vanessa sharply from her thoughts.

Vanessa shakes her head, her smile turning distant. “I don’t think I’m going to be sticking around long after the wedding, Trace.” She says with an enigmatic air of uncertainty. She doesn’t quite meet her sister’s eyes, staring reservedly at the door, a quick exit if she needs to take it.

“What do you mean?” Tracy jumps forward in her seat, her front nudging the table enough to knock it into Vanessa.

She doesn’t have a chance to reply, however, because the barmaid plonks herself down onto a chair between Vanessa and Tracy, placing the bottle down on the table with an echoing thud.

“So,” She starts, leaning back in her chair to mirror Vanessa’s position. “How is it tha’ two educated women like ya’selves know nowt of The Widow and The Merciless?” She says it like she already knows the answer, already knows that the other women have lived sheltered upbringings away from the troubles and reality of the real world.

Ignoring the question, Vanessa leans forward attentively. “Who is she?”

“A pirate.” The woman says smugly, clearly enjoying having the upper hand in such a situation. Before Vanessa can snap or roll her eyes, she continues on. “The most feared pirate in these waters, she’s ruthless and cruel and death always follows her, always a step behind and a step ahead.” She talks in a hushed whisper, keeping her eyes glued to the two women as her tale spills from her lips like an old curse. Vanessa gulps down what she thinks is a nervous lump in her throat. “They say she was cursed by a sea witch, doomed to a loveless life.”

“What do you mean?” Vanessa says doubtfully. Even a sheltered upbringing isn’t enough for her to believe in curses and witches, but the fear in the barmaid’s eyes has her wanting to question everything she’s ever been told.

“Tate, it was the name of her first husband. I heard she cut his throat while he slept and sailed away with everything he owned.” She punctuates her story with wide eyed conspiracy, because after all, that’s all this is, conspiracy. “And twice since then, men have fallen to the same fate. A loveless death inflicted by a woman doomed to a loveless life.”

“She kept the name Tate?” Tracy speaks up, falling for the story with each second.

“As a warning to other men.” The barmaid explains, topping up the glasses with the bottle. “But most people round ‘ere know her as The Widow.”

Vanessa listens to the story sceptically and at some point, she’s brought her arms up to cross against her chest, rejecting the very notion. “She doesn’t sound much different to any other pirate I’ve read about.”

“You ever heard of a ship that has taken down a full Spanish fleet, single handed, I might add, without one fatality?” The old woman says complacently, as though it’s her own feat she retells.

Vanessa can’t deny the story has her intrigued, but she’s still dubious. Her father had told her his own stories of the British fleet he commanded at one time, the most powerful fleet the world had ever seen and even they had struggled to compete against the Spanish. She finds it increasingly doubtful that even the most skilled pirate could accomplish such a thing.

Vanessa’s about to state as much but a sudden quietness befalls the tavern and the barmaid sitting opposite her quickly jumps to her feet with an awfully pale complexion. “You should leave.” She says quickly but it comes too late.

“Faith!” A rough voice rumbles through the tavern, silencing the last of the hushed voices. “Rum.”

“Behind the bar, Cain, help yourself.” Faith, the barmaid replies, apparently already acquainted with the pirate. “You always do.” She says under her breath, loud enough for only Vanessa and Tracy to hear her.

A group of men follow behind, shoving punters away from the bar as they crowd around it, helping themselves to bottles of liquor. Vanessa assumes this was what the warning was for, the air of violence that has fallen upon the room is palpable and she feels a stone forming in her throat when Tracy shifts closer to her.

Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea after all…

She watches as the women who had been dancing by the piano before, scurry out through the door without so much as a second glance and wishes, for just a moment, they’d been closer to the exit rather than in the back of the tavern hidden in the shadows.

It’s when she finds Tracy’s hand on top of the table, blindly clinging to her, ready to yank her through the bar as quickly as she can, when the air around them shifts with a sudden chill. The doors swing open, allowing a gust of cold air to follow through, and a figure strides in.

“Captain.” Faith says in greeting, the woman’s eyes snap over to where the barmaid, Vanessa and Tracy are huddled in the far corner.

Vanessa gulps. Emerald green eyes flicker between the three women and the air in her lung’s freezes. She’s beautiful, this captain, with flowing blonde hair, curled with the salty air of the sea, falling across her shoulders. She’s tall, Vanessa notes, even without the hat on her head, taller than some of the men in her crew and she carries herself with a manor of power and authority that has the remaining patrons hiding themselves away from her.

But Vanessa can’t help but stare despite every bone in her body screaming at her to look away, to avert her eyes. She feels her gaze glued to the woman as she wanders over to them, grimacing in Faith’s direction as she passes her crew. She pulls out a small leather bag from the pocket of her leather trousers and tosses it at the barmaid, heavy with coins. “Should cover it.” The Captain mutters, yanking a chair from a nearby table and sets it beside them. “Who’s this?”

The Widow, Lady Tate, a goddess, Vanessa rambles off in thought, only seems to take note of her and Tracy then, her eyes holding Vanessa’s a little longer than necessary before she turns back to Faith. “New in town, the Governor’s girls.” She explains, giving the two women an apologetic frown as the captain continues to inspect the pair of them curiously.

“Governor Clayton.” She says, her lip turning up in a disgusted manor, a reaction that has a niggling thought biting at the forefront of Vanessa’s mind. “I’ll be round to see him tomorrow.” The captain punctuates her statement with a purposeful sip from the bottle that had remained half full on the table and Vanessa catches a sudden glimpse of a brand on her wrist, a ‘P’.

Vanessa isn’t sure what surprises her more, the knowledge that this apparently notorious pirate knows of a man like her father or the possibility, _hope_ , she feels at the idea of this woman being in her home, a matter of feet away from her. She’s not sure if she’s supposed to say something in response, she doesn’t think she’d be able to even if she tried anyway, her throat becoming suddenly dry and tight under to scrutinising gaze of the pirate.

A crash of wood crumbling to the floor and a high-pitched shattering of glasses pulls the four women’s attention away from one another and towards the bar. Cain’s standing over a bloody patron, his face pouring with red where he lies amongst the broken table.

The captain, for her part, doesn’t seem all that surprised. “Excuse me, ladies.” She says and places her hat back on top of her head as she climbs to her feet, thundering over to the two men. She clutches the man on the floor by the front of his shirt, hoisting him up with a shocking amount of strength and throws him towards the door. “Clear out, the lot of you.” She yells to the crowded room and within a second the last of the patrons are scurrying to their feet, Vanessa and Tracy included. “You,” she turns to Cain, stabbing a finger into his chest. “Clean this up.”

Vanessa passes close by, feeling the heat emanating off the other woman’s body in waves and she manages to catch her eye just as she reaches the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Vanessa.” Lady Tate says with a sly grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

-

“I just don’t understand how she knew your name?” Tracy says the following morning. They’re sitting in one of the dining rooms sipping on tea and picking at their breakfast. “Or how she knew dad.” She adds as an afterthought, refilling her teacup with steaming liquid.

Vanessa had been unusually quiet since they’d snuck back into that house the night before. Frank was none the wiser, keeping himself holed up in his office and Tracy hadn’t let anything slip. But that doesn’t mean she’s kept quiet about last night’s events. “I don’t know, Trace.” Vanessa mutters into her tea, stirring it in circles until a deep whirl pool forms and she can see the bottom of her cup.

She’s been overly dismissive of her sister lately, more so since she’s announced her engagement, and while she knows Tracy is happy and has her whole life planned and ready, Vanessa can’t help but envy her. Can’t help but resent her because Tracy has everything she doesn’t and it’s a constant reminder of what Frank had done to her, how he’d ripped any chance of a future from her grasp.

“You alright, love?” Tracy asks when Vanessa doesn’t speak up.

Vanessa blinks her thoughts away and tries to give her sister a convincing smile. “Yeah, didn’t sleep much.” She’s not lying. She’d lain awake until god knows what time that morning, green eyes and blonde hair flickering behind her eyelids every time she’d tried to drift off. The sound of her name falling from lips so untouchable… Vanessa clears her throat. “Think I’m gonna go for a walk.” She says, shoving her tea away from her.

The hallways throughout the house are dark and cold, no paintings or colour line the walls, the curtains on the windows are drawn closed in the areas of the huge building that aren’t lived in and the air is stiflingly dusty in the enclosed spaces. It’s not home, it hasn’t felt that way since they arrived, and it’s all Vanessa can do not to run to the front door and out onto the vast lawn that circles the house.

Vanessa doesn’t realise she’s gasping for air until she drops down onto the grass, twisting her fingers in the green blades in a death grip. Something akin to a wrecked sob retches its way up Vanessa’s throat and out into the open air. Tears stream down her cheeks of their own accord and it occurs to her in that second that she isn’t really sure why it is she’s crying, why she can feel an icy pain forming around her heart and a burn in her lungs.

Gritting her teeth, Vanessa climbs to her feet and begins to walk. She wipes the tears from her cheeks, swiping the memories away with them. He’d be three now, nearly four. Months and years have passed without him in her life all because her father couldn’t bear to face the _looks_ from the people around him. She hates him for that. A news of a baby born out of wedlock had rippled through the English port, the scandal only fuelled due to Franks status in the navy, it hadn’t helped of course, that Vanessa had been nearly twice the blacksmiths age.

He’d been young at the time, only just out of school, and Vanessa had been lonely, something she’d grown used to over her years. It was nice, at the time, to feel wanted by someone who wasn’t only interested in her money. It had been a mistake, a silly accident but Johnny, her baby was the love of her life, and that love had soared the moment he’d been born.

Vanessa ends up down on the beach, yanking her shoes off to feel the scorching sand against her bare feet. Her father had told her Port Royal was beautiful this time of year, and she can see now that he wasn’t wrong. The turquoise sea laps at the shoreline, crashing against the rocks, steadily wearing away at their surfaces. The sun beats down with a ferocious heat, hot even in the early months of spring, subtly melting the frost around her heart that had been forming over the past years.

She sits herself down in the sand, the tips of her toes poking out into the water and she allows herself to finally take in her surroundings. There’s vast merchant and navy ships docked up within the harbour, sailors working their way up and down the docks carrying various sized supplies.

The British flag flying proudly from all but one.

Vanessa doesn’t even question whether the ship only slightly obscured by the cliffs is the Merciless. It’s nearly the biggest ship out there, grand and regal, the type of ship she assumes should belong to a monarch. However, despite its beauty, its littered with obvious scars, the sails torn ever so slightly at the edges with the odd patched hole, and the wood of the ship itself is stained with scorch marks and splintered.

It’s fitting, she thinks, that it looks the way it does. The places it been and the experiences it had; the possibility of leaving this god forsaken place doesn’t seem so out of reach when she’s down here, ships littering the surface of the sea on front of her.

“Enjoying the view?” Vanessa’s dragged from her reverie with a sharp yank. A silhouetted figure’s stood in front of the sun’s rays, casting a dark shadow over her and she has to blink while shielding her eyes before she can take in who the voice belongs to. “That n’s mine.” Vanessa’s eyes bulge out of her head when Lady Tate shifts slightly, and the sun highlights her face angelically.  She can’t find the words in her throat, choked by her surprise. The captain pulls off her hat and waves in the direction of the Merciless. When it becomes apparent that Vanessa isn’t going to speak, she rolls her eyes and stretches out her hand. “I’m about to pay your father a visit,” she say’s and Vanessa can’t help but stare up at the offered hand with disbelieving confusion. “I could accompany you back up the road, if you’d like?”

If Vanessa’s brain could form a coherent thought, or even begin to function normally again, she’d probably be embarrassed by the way she dumbly nods her consent and gingerly takes the captain’s hand in her own. It’s soft, that much she can fathom and the warmth it causes to ripple through her own skin and into her body sends a jolt of life back to her brain. “Thank you.”

Lady Tate’s eyes widen in mock astonishment and her lips curl into a sly grin, the sight almost causes Vanessa to stumble in the sand. “She speaks!” She drops Vanessa’s hand and for a moment she feels a bout of disappointment sting in her chest but then the captain’s holding out her arm for Vanessa to take.

The offered arm must spark something brave in her because the words that fall from her mouth surprise even herself. “I’ve never met a pirate in my life,” she says, “let alone a captain, can you blame me?”

Eying her with amusement, the other woman leads Vanessa up the road, leaving her a second to slip her shoes back onto her feet. “If it makes it easier for you,” she holds Vanessa steady as she balances on one foot, “you could always call me Charity. At least then you won’t be intimidated by the title.” She’s teasing, the smirk on her face reassuring Vanessa that there’s no malice behind her words.

Vanessa tries not to smile, wanting to keep her composure enough to hide the excitement that’s pulsing through her veins and the erratic thudding of her heart. “Charity?” She says it more to hear how it sounds falling from her own lips than anything else.

Charity – it’s a lot nicer than The Widow, she thinks – hums in affirmation. “Ironic, I know.”

“It’s nice.” The truth in her tone must take Charity by surprise because she turns fully to face Vanessa with what she thinks appears to be wonder in her eyes. “For a _pirate_.” She adds teasingly, needing to lighten the heavy air that suddenly falls between them.

Charity scoffs, turning away with a steely expression. “Well, this pirate ain’t nice.”

“I’ve heard.” Vanessa says without thinking. Almost immediately realising how her words may sound to the other woman. “Sorry, I-”

Charity lets out an amused bark of a laugh. “Don’t apologise.” She gives Vanessa’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Who hasn’t heard of me?” She says cockily.

“Actually, I had no idea who you were ‘til last night.” Vanessa finds herself subconsciously leaning into Charity’s side as they near the house halfway up the road to her own house, the tip of the mansions roof coming into view and a sickening bout of dread immediately settles in her stomach at the sight.

“I bet Faith had loads to say about me.” Charity slows their pace. Its subtle enough that if Vanessa hadn’t been hoping for it herself, she wouldn’t have noticed.

She shrugs, meeting Charity step for step. “Seemed pretty fond of you when she wasn’t telling tails.”

“That’s family for you, I s’pose.”

“Family?” Vanessa asks, intrigued.

Charity nods, stopping at the foot of the gates. “Big one, an’all.” She pulls the hat off her head and slumps against one of the towering pillars that flanks the pathway, shaded by palm trees that shield them both from the sun. “Cain’s her son, my cousin.” She explains, sounding tired of the conversation already. Vanessa nods her understanding but doesn’t push any further. They fall quiet for a moment, the silence not all uncomfortable. “You like living ‘ere then?”

Vanessa can’t help the laugh that works its way through her. She mirror’s Charity’s position on the same pillar, their bodies only inches apart. “Hate it.”

“Oh yeah? Livin’ in a big house like this, money, servants… sounds awful, that.” Charity takes a step closer, allowing her eyes to trail up the front of Vanessa’s dress with abandon.

Vanessa gulps down a fresh bout of nerves, feeling a hot flush creep up the side of her neck to her cheeks at the blazing green eyes wracking up the front of her body.  She watches the eyes hover over her cleavage before they finally come back up to meet her eyes and it surprises Vanessa, in that moment, how comfortable and calm she feels, despite the thudding of her heart. “It’s not that.” Vanessa says, smiling sadly with a shake of her head.

But Charity reaches out and takes her hand in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. It seems out of character, and while Vanessa knows, realistically, she has no idea who this woman is, the stories Faith had told her the night before, and the fear that had rippled through the tavern when the captain had walked in, is enough to tell Vanessa that this kindness, the softness that Charity is treating her with, isn’t how she acts around others. “What then?”

Vanessa allows the pirate to flip her hand upside down, trailing a finger across the lines of her palm. “It’s not just this place.” She starts, feeling the words flowing without a care in the world. “I feel like I’m living in a prison here. I’m forty-three for Christ’s sake.” That draws a light chuckle from Charity, the air whispering across her face as the corners of Charity’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “My dad has me locked away in that house half the time, an’ now Tracy’s getting married…” She trails off, realising the bitter tone that’s beginning to lace her words. “It’s silly.” Vanessa says dismissively. “I just feel like I’m trapped, y’know? Like I want to jump on one of them ships down there and just see where it takes me.”

Charity nods her understanding, her face softening in a way that warms Vanessa down to her icy interior. “Bet being a pirate doesn’t sound so bad now?” She says, it’s a joke, intended to lighten the mood, but it strikes something fast and hard in the back of Vanessa mind, startling her to an abrupt realisation. “Sorry to cut this little conversation short, but I best be getting’ to business.” Charity says almost sadly, placing her hat back on her head as she nods in the direction of the house.

Absently, Vanessa bobs her head. “Yeah, of course.”

Charity links their arms again and leads the pair of them up the track and towards the doors. They swing open before the two women even reach the bottom of the steps, one of the servants in the house greeting them with a soft bow in Vanessa’s presence. “Your sister is in her room, ma’am.” He says and then turns to Charity. “Captain, I’ll take you to the Governor.”

Vanessa reluctantly drops Charity’s arm and begins making her way towards the grand staircase but stops when Charity calls her name. She turns, her heart rising in her throat. “I’ll be leaving soon.” The captain says but her words don’t sound sad or disappointed. “Maybe I can see you one last time before then?”

The words send a hot thrill through her veins, channelling through her blood like adrenalin. A bright smile pulls at her mouth, the expression becoming a common occurrence within the last twenty-four hours, her cheeks losing their stiffness. “I’d like that.”

-

Tracy and Vanessa are huddled outside Frank’s office door, comically pressing their ears against the wood frame, trying not to breathe too loud as the raised voices from within seep out under the gap between the door and the floor.

They’d originally been hovering on the floor above, looking down over the railing of the stairs as hushed voices echoed through the halls. Curiosity had gotten the better of them after a few short minutes, however, and the pair had raced down the stairs, sliding to a holt outside Frank’s office, just as the voices had begun raising with frustration.

“That’s not what we agreed.” Charity snarls causing the hairs on the back of Vanessa’s neck to prickle.

The sound of fists slamming down on a desk startles the two women, causing them to leap away from the door only to throw themselves back against it in the same second. “It’s all I have.” Frank counters, his voice coming through as a petulant whine. “I can get you more, just give me a couple of weeks.”

“I got you here.” Charity’s voice comes out in a dangerous growl, low and threatening like it had been the night before in the tavern. “I gave you _my_ gold on the condition that you return the favour an’ repay me in full.” As she continues to talk, her words take on an amused tone, but even through the door, Vanessa can feel the hostility emanating off her. “I’m a patient woman, Frank.”

“Capt-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” Charity snaps. Vanessa finds herself smirking, picturing the other woman scowling at her father. This is The Widow talking now, she knows. It’s not Charity, not the woman who’d walked her the twenty minutes from the beach back to her home, who’d been so kind and gentle with her while they talked. “You’re testin’ me, an’ I really don’t appreciate it.” The thought crosses her mind fleetingly, disappearing just as fast as it had arrived; she wonder’s which one is for show, which character she plays, and which is the real her. Vanessa think’s this Charity, the one in the office threatening Frank, is the act, or at least she hopes it is. Not because she doesn’t like this version of the pirate, no, in fact, she’s quite enjoying listening in, but more so that the Charity she’d met earlier that day had made her feel special, as though she’d given that part of herself to Vanessa privately. “I will be back tonight.” Charity says after a beat of silence. “Have the rest of my money and the deed to that ship, or you’ll be begging for the _gallows_.”

Realising the conversation’s come to an end, Tracy grabs Vanessa and gives her a firm shove away from the door, racing down the hallway to the entrance room as a bout of childish giddiness bubbles between the pair of them. They quickly sober up, however, Tracy turning to Vanessa with concern. “What was that about?”

“Well,” Vanessa says, feeling mindlessly smug, “I don’t think dad’s as respectable as he likes to pretend.” It almost makes up for everything he’s done to her, almost, knowing he’s a corrupt official in debt to one of the most feared pirates of their time. Karma, she thinks, because that’s what this is.

“You mean he paid his way here?” Tracy asks, incredulous.

“I _mean_ ,” Vanessa takes a quick step towards her sister as the office door opens. “He’s in league with a pirate, Trace, and that’s the only reason we’re here now.”

“So, he lied to us? About been given the title?” Tracy’s eyes fall to her feet, an air of sadness flowing off her like a curtain. A twist of guilt pangs in Vanessa’s chest at the sight, having been too focussed on her own feelings to note what the revelation might do to her sister.

Nevertheless, she doesn’t get a chance to reply, two sets of footsteps click down the hallway behind them and Frank and Charity step into the open entrance room. “Girls.” Frank says in greeting, nodding his head. “This is-”

“Oh no need for that, _Governor_.” Charity steps past him and shoots Vanessa a teasing wink. “We’ve already met.”

He flounders with the information, eyes going wide and his mouth forms a small ‘o’ as he tries to understand how that could ever be possible. For a second, Vanessa thinks Charity might actually tell him about the meeting in the tavern, a cold fear settling at the back of her neck. “Y-you have?” Frank stutters.

“Mhm.” The Captain closes in on Vanessa, smiling in a way that feels oddly reassuring. “Found lovely Vanessa here down on the beach all alone, thought it’d be best to escort her home before visiting you.” She doesn’t once take her eyes off Vanessa’s, talking as though to herself rather than to Frank. “This must be Tracy.” Charity finally turns away, angling herself towards her sister, her smile losing some of its warmth.

“Yes, ma’am.” Tracy replies, ducking her head as a sign of respect rather than out of shyness.

“Oh,” Charity says, stepping back, closer to Vanessa. “Never been called ma’am before… very polite.” She says teasingly, torturing their father, prolonging the inevitable dropping of the other shoe. “They definitely don’t get tha’ from you, anyway.”

Vanessa slams the palms of her hands over her mouth, trying in vain the stifle the bark of laughter that’s forced its way up from her lungs. Frank’s face twists into something akin to infuriation at the sound and Tracy forcefully jabs an elbow into the side of her ribs.

“Vanessa,” Frank starts but Charity steps between him and his daughter, shooting him an uncompromising glare as she does so.

“Vanessa.” She says gently, turning back to the other woman. “I’m ‘fraid my plans have changed.” Despite her words, the smile remains on her face, gentle and soft, something Vanessa’s come to realise is reserved for herself only. “I’ll be shipping off first thing tomorrow morning. But, I’ve not forgotten our conversation,” the smile on her lips slides into a thin line and she ducks her head so only Vanessa can see her face. “Have a think for me, yeah? I’ll no doubt see you tonight.”

“Think about what?” Vanessa says, her face warping into an expression of confusion.

Charity straightens up wordlessly and turns to face Frank. “Midnight.” She snaps, cold and emotionless, already making her own way to the door. “My crew will be with me.”

-

Tracy sits silently on the end of Vanessa’s bed, flipping pages of a tattered book aimlessly. Vanessa’s been watching her for a while, a deep frown mirrored on her own face as the events of the day are relived in their own minds. “What did she mean?” Tracy asks, disrupting the quiet between them that causes Vanessa to jump slightly.

It’s late enough now that she knows Charity will be back soon, the candles beside her bed are the only light supplied to the room, the moon outside tucked away behind looming clouds. “What?” Vanessa asks, snatching the book out of her sister’s hands to fold out the crinkled pages.

“The pirate.” She says. “When she asked you to think about something?”

Vanessa shrugs. She’s had enough time to think about that since Charity’s departure with no further explanation. She’s wracked her brain for hours, always coming to the same conclusion each time.

The quiet conversation they’d shared on the walk back up to the house rang at the very forefront of her mind, like an alarm bell signalling her answer. _‘I want to jump on one of them ships down there and just see where it takes me.’_ The words stain each thought, each possibility, until she comes back to the same uttering of words she’d spoken to Charity at the foot of the pathway and Vanessa’s not sure how to place the feeling in her stomach, like a fluttering of butterflies, that aren’t nervousness but aren’t quite excitement either. Vanessa knows with nothing less than certainty, that this is what Charity had been referring to, but she’s not at all sure what she’d been implying at the time. Was she telling Vanessa to run, to go jump on one of those ships and never look back?

“I don’t know, Tracy, she’s a pirate, drinks a lot no doubt, she’s probably crazy.” Vanessa says dismissively, hoping that her younger sister doesn’t pry any more than she already has. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to Tracy about this, about Charity and the unfamiliar feeling bubbling deep in her stomach. It’s just, she’s not all that sure how to connect with her anymore, they’d once been so close, best friends even. But since her engagement, Vanessa can only see what she doesn’t have and is constantly reminded of the things she’s lost.

Tracy stands, huffing out a breath of frustration as she makes her way over to the bay window, peering out onto the pitch-black lawn bellow. “What aren’t you telling me, V?” She holds one arm across her chest, keeping her head high, finally meeting Vanessa’s eyes with her own insecure ones.

Vanessa gulps down the guilt she feels well in her chest at the sight of her sister’s eyes, glassy and hopeless. “Tracy, I…” she trails off, stifling the lie before she can voice it completely.

“After what you said to me last night and then that _woman_.” She spits the final word like she can read Vanessa’s thoughts, like she can feel the anticipation radiating off her. “Please tell me you’re not about to do something stupid?”

Vanessa opens her mouth to reply, to reassure Tracy that, no, she isn’t about to do something stupid. But no words come out, a defeated puff of air escapes her lungs and she slumps dejectedly against the headboard. Tracy’s shoulders drop at the realisation that she can’t make that promise, but Vanessa’s jumping out of her bed and rushing to her side in a flash. “Look, I don’t know what I’m about to do.” She says, holding her hands out pleadingly for her sister to take. “I just…” She drops her head, sighing out her frustration at her inability to form a coherent response. “I just need to get away.”

“From what, Vanessa?” She pleads for an answer, pulling her hands out of her sisters.

Vanessa’s about to reply when a dull, orange glow appears from the tree line, casting light in through the window. “They’re here.” She whispers, already running towards the door. The Widow and her crew make their way up the path towards the house and by the time they kick down the front door, the wood splintering and cracking under the force, Vanessa and Tracy are standing on the landing, clinging to the railings as they stare down in fright at the scene unfolding before them.

Charity has her hair thrown up into a bun on the top of her head, keeping the blonde locks from falling into the black paint across her eyes. The forest green finds Vanessa instantly as she barks out orders to her crew, the men scattering around the ground floor, grabbing anything that can be worth a bit of gold and tosses them into sacks.

“ _Clayton_!” She bellows, loud enough for it to be heard throughout the house and Vanessa feels Tracy wince beside her.

Frank comes running down the hallway opposite them, tugging his robe tightly around himself. “Capt-”

“This should settle the debt.” Charity says, waving her hand passively at the carnage before them. She begins to slowly climb the stairs, her sword drawn menacingly with a metal ringing sound. “You’re lucky,” she says, glancing quickly at Vanessa as she speaks, “I’m not usually this forgiving.”

“What-” Frank’s silenced when the tip of the blade in Charity’s hand hovers dangerously close to his stomach.

“What did I say about bein’ interrupted?” Charity growls through bared teeth, her eyes like a blazing fire, staring him down. “Be glad this is all I’m doing.” She presses the blade closer, Frank too struck by fear to step away. “You can thank her for that.” Charity tilts her head at Vanessa but doesn’t allow her eyes to leave Frank’s. “Couldn’t be having her upset with me, could a now?”

Vanessa feels an involuntary smile creeping up on her face and she ducks her head quickly when both Tracy and Frank turn to face her questioningly. He clears his throat and steps in front of his girls protectively, not that Vanessa thinks its warranted, however, she somehow knows that Charity isn’t a danger to them. “What are you talking about?” Frank snaps, his voice sounding braver.

Waving her hand dismissively, Charity begins to make her way back down the stairs to where some of her men have congregated, their bags bulging with valuables. “Never you mind.” She shoots a mocking smile over her shoulder at him, causing a bristling reaction from the man.

Frank, leaps down the stairs after her, stopping short when a pirate, Cain, Vanessa remembers his face, steps between them, shoving Frank to the ground effortlessly.

Tracy lets out a frightened squeal, running to help him to his feet with Vanessa taking a slower pace behind them, cautious not to make too much movement that may be considered threatening but mostly because she doesn’t feel he deserves the help. He’s gotten himself mixed up in this mess, illegal mess, and frankly – despite this being her own home, too – she feels no sympathy for her father.

To her credit, Charity ignores the display of idiocy from the Governor, climbing to his feet. She rounds Tracy and Frank to stand before Vanessa instead. “Did you ‘ave a think?” She asks softly, her words coming out through an almost gentle whisper, an underlining tone of hope lacing her words, subtle enough that it almost unnoticed.

Vanessa can only nod, hypnotised by the green set against the dark backdrop of the black paint coating Charity’s skin in a thick smoky streak.

“We’ve got the lot.” Cain grunts in Charity’s ear, the final stragglers of the crew joining them, and Charity gives a curt nod, allowing her eyes to linger on Vanessa a moment longer, but she’s frozen in her spot, unable to step towards Charity like she wants to, like she’s willing her legs to. And so, when it becomes clear to the other woman that she’s not getting a response, her shoulders slump and some of the fire in her eyes sizzles out.

Vanessa can feel the eyes of her family stood beside her burning into the back of her head, the heat from their bodies almost stiflingly hot and it shocks something to life deep inside her, something she’s tried pushing down for months now, that fight or flight instinct kicking in. “Wait!” She calls abruptly, her voice coming out croaked.

Charity stops just before she reaches the door but doesn’t turn to face Vanessa. Cain gives her a disgruntled look, but she waves him and the rest of the crew on. She still doesn’t turn however, keeping her back firmly facing Vanessa.

“Teeny?” Frank asks, his voice laced with confusion as he holds his arm firmly around both of his children, a deep frown creasing his forehead when Vanessa shrugs him off. Wiggling out of his grasp, she takes a tentative step towards Charity, then another and another until she’s close enough to hear Charity breathing.

With the last of her hesitation seeping from her bones, leaving only determination behind, Vanessa feels courage beginning to bubble inside her again, just as it had that morning on their walk back up to the house. It’s an inadvertent effect that Charity has on her body, she seems to bring out nothing but that natural instinct within her. “Take me with you.” She asks, wrapping her fingers around Charity’s arm. “Please.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said before, I got a bit carried away with this so bear with me... spent far too much time writing this instead of my dissertation.

“ _Vanessa_?”

“What are you doing?”

Both Frank and Tracy profess their outrage and confusion simultaneously, just as Charity finally turns to meet her eyes, finally acknowledging her presence behind her. “D’you know what you’re asking me?”

Vanessa nods her head desperately, ignoring the furious protests of her family. “Yeah, I do.” She says absolutely, her grip tightening on Charity’s arm in a silent plea not to leave her behind.

“We’ll be gone for weeks, months even.” Charity steps closer, the smell of rum and something floral and smoky invades Vanessa’s senses. Her words come out with caution, but her tone conveys nothing but reassurance.

“I know.” Vanessa says, holding the other woman’s gaze for as long as her heart can physically let her. “I know.” She says again, needing Charity to understand that she’s never been more serious about anything else in her life, that she knows what she’s risking here.

“You’re not taking my daughter from me.” Frank shoves, Vanessa aside, stepping between the two women as he pushes out his chest as far as he can, bracing himself for a fight.

Charity lets out a hollow laugh at the sight, her hand coming down to grasp the handle of her sword. “She’s not yours to keep, I’m afraid.” She shrugs dismissively. “It’s her choice, I won’t be forcing her into anything she’s not wanting to do.”

He grits his teeth, fury brimming inside him at Charity’s dismissive demeanour. “Get out of my house.”  

“With pleasure.” She smiles sweetly and steps around him, holding out her hand for Vanessa to take. It’s a request, not a demand, and she looks at Vanessa with all the understanding in the world.

Vanessa’s hand is caught, however, before she can even reach the other woman. Frank, gripping her wrist with an uncomfortable strength. “Go stand with you sister.” He snaps, waving his free hand to where Tracy is stood, silently crying and in a complete state of shock as she watches the exchange unfold.

“No.” Vanessa doesn’t know where the bark comes from, or the hatred she spits the words with, something fuelling years’ worth of pent up anger, allowing it to spill over the brim. “I’m going with her.”

Frank turns to her, startled, with disbelief teeming in his eyes. He drops her wrist, realising the death grip he’s had on her and allows a second for his face to twist into something regretful.

But its only there for a second before the anger is returning to his body, he turns on Charity fast, closing in on her but she holds her ground.

Tracy races over to Vanessa, yanking her towards her and envelopes her sister in a tight hug. “Go with her.” She says, clinging on tightly before she pushes Vanessa gently towards the door. “It’s okay, go.” Her face twists with sadness and love and Vanessa has to bite down hard on her lip to stop a sob from spilling out when she nods shakily. “Dad, stop.” Pleadingly, Tracy tugs at Frank’s arm, seeing the white knuckled grip that Charity has on her sword.

He relents slightly but waves a finger frantically in Charity’s face. “You’ll regret this.”

“Y’know,” She starts, dropping her hand from her sword and holding it out behind her, blindly waiting for Vanessa to take it. “There’s only one thing I hate more than being interrupted.” Warm fingers intertwine with hers and she gives Vanessa’s hand a soft and reassuring squeeze. “An’ that’s being threatened.”

Vanessa can feel Charity vibrating, as though she’s trying to hold some unrestrainable monster within. She wraps her other hand around their tangled fingers and slowly pulls the captain away from her family, backing them towards the door silently.

“Watch yourself.” Charity spits at Frank before she relents to Vanessa’s silent pleas and they leave, the door slamming shut in their faces.

-

Rows of flickering lanterns line the harbour, lighting the walkway for the crew as they board the small rowing boats tied up along the docks. Charity’s hand hasn’t left Vanessa’s once since they made their hurried escape from the house, Frank no doubt having alerted the British soldiers the moment they left.

She doesn’t doubt that Charity will keep her safe, but the adrenalin pumping through her veins along with the excitement, has her clinging to the hand in her own for dear life, almost afraid that if Charity ever lets go of her, this whole night will shatter into a million tiny pieces and she’ll ripped away from the other woman.

Charity seems to sense Vanessa’s train of thought, and slows down slightly when they reach the docks, angling her body so she can face her, leading her towards a boat with Cain loading it with their takings. “You okay?” She asks, giving the hand in her own a gentle squeeze.

Vanessa feels a smile pulling at her lips before she can even reply, her head nodding surely. “I am, yeah.” She says, stepping closer to Charity, something deep in her chest tugging her closer like a magnet.

The sound of Cain’s boots thudding against the wooden surface beneath his feet, pulls their attention towards him. “What’s this?” He stands beside Charity, matching her height and crosses his arms against his chest defiantly. He gives Vanessa an uninterested once over before he turns to his captain.

“Vanessa.” Charity states as though it should be obvious to him already, her voice coming out with a mocking command to it. “She’s coming with us.”

Cain lets out a sound that comes from deep in his throat, a growl like scoff, eyes rolling with his palpable irritation. “That a good idea?”

Charity shrugs. “She’ll be safe ‘til we get to Tortuga.”

Vanessa stands silently, observing the exchange as the two pirates fire responses back and forth with a familiar understanding. “It’s your neck on the line, then, innit.” She tries to ignore the cold sweat that forms on the back of her neck, nervousness that prickles just below the skin.

“I’ve never risked the safety of this crew.” Charity snaps, stepping into his space, inadvertently dropping Vanessa’s hand as she does so. “Am not about to do that now, yeah?”

Despite the familiarity between them, however, Cain seems to remember his place. He holds his hands up in defeat, and takes a step back, shaking his head. “If you say so.” He steps down into the boat and waits patiently for Charity to help Vanessa in behind him.

Charity follows the other woman into the boat once Vanessa’s gotten herself used to the gentle rock. She unties the rope as Cain grabs the oars and pushes them away from the mainland.

Vanessa watches the lanterns on the dock slowly begin to fade into a blur of orange until the darkness becomes too overpowering, and the only light provided, comes from the moon looming above them.

She knows it’ll come soon enough, that sinking feeling of regret, but for now, Vanessa allows herself to drown in the feeling of excitement and exhilaration before a wash of fear can overwhelm her.

“Your dad has good taste.” Vanessa jumps when Charity breaks the quiet reverie the three of them had fallen into. She’s pulled a bottle of liquor out of one of the sacks that Cain had tossed in before, already removed the cork and necked a good amount.

Vanessa smirks, eyeing the label on the bottle. “It was a gift.” She says. “For my birthday.”

Charity sputters around a mouthful of the alcohol, having the decency to look the slightest bit guilty before she pulls the bottle away from her mouth and holds it out. “Oh... would you like a drink?” 

Laughing, Vanessa tries to ease the wobble the boat gives as she chuckles lowly. She plucks the bottle from Charity’s hand and takes her own sip, allowing the burn of liquid to slide down her throat. “Cheers.” She raises the bottle in a teasing salute and can’t help but notice the flutter in her chest when Charity smiles at her.

-

The door to the captain’s quarters quietly clicks shut behind the two women. It’s a decently sized space, lit by a single candle on a desk situated in front of the windows, scattered with papers and maps except for a small ornate box with deep crimson flashes that swirl against dark oak. A large bookcase sits to the left of the desk and liquor cabinet to the right. Vanessa stands in the middle of the room, looking slightly out of place in the cluttered room.

Charity makes quick work of lighting the lanterns that hang from low beams, filling the cabin with light and revealing the rest of the room that had been cloaked in darkness. A bed is pressed into the far corner of the room, white cotton sheets with a scarlet throw tossed over the top of it. There’s a small leather couch situated just behind where Vanessa is standing and a dark chest bearing the Royal Spanish seal sits beside it.

Vanessa’s eyes are trained on the middle window, stained glass with vibrant colours, a mermaid lounging on rocks in the sun and The Merciless at full sail in the background. “Part of the reason I nicked this.” Charity says, startling Vanessa. She’s slouched against the book case, absently spinning a globe with one hand while the other clings to the neck of the bottle.

“The window?” Vanessa asks. She slowly makes her way over to where Charity is standing, reaching out for the bottle and purposefully grazing her own fingers against hers, strangely sensing the impulsive urge building inside of her to feel Charity’s skin against her own.

“Mhm.” Nodding her head, she leads Vanessa over to the couch and drops herself down into the cushions unceremoniously. She pats the space beside her, beckoning Vanessa to sit. “Nearly got killed doing it, an’all.” Charity says indifferently, kicking her feet out in front of her as she tosses her arm along the back of the couch, relaxing into the cushions.

“Why doesn’t that bother you?” Vanessa asks boldly, taking a final sip from the bottle before handing it back over to Charity. “Does it not scare you?”  

“Dying?” Charity asks, but Vanessa has an inclination that Charity understands exactly what she’s asking, if the way she keeps her eyes glued to the bottle in her hands is anything to go by. “I don’t know,” she gulps down a mouthful of rum. “S’pose, it doesn’t matter much when you’ve got nowt to live for.”

The rationalisation takes Vanessa aback. She thinks, if it had been anyone else to say such a thing, Vanessa would have rolled her eyes and told them to get a grip. But there’s something in the way Charity speaks nothing but the truth, albeit slightly blunt, that causes a dull ache to pulse around her heart. “Nothing?” she asks, finding herself subconsciously shifting closer to Charity. “You told me you had a big family?”

Charity scoffs, turning to face Vanessa with an amused smile. “We’re not that close.” She says except it almost sounds like she’s trying to downplay her words. “I’ve got Cain, but that’s a story for another day.” A fierce bout of jealousy rears its ugly head when she smirks and it must show on Vanessa’s face because Charity laughs, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she leans in. “Don’t worry,” her voice lowers to a mock whisper, “all in the past.”

Vanessa tries to stutter out an explanation but the red blush creeping up her neck has her ducking her head before Charity can see it. “No husband then? Kids?” She asks keeping her voice as steady as she can.

Charity grunts, swinging the bottle between her fingers. “Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ with a tight-lipped smile. “No men round me.” She pushes Vanessa’s shoulder teasingly and adds, “except for that lot out there, but…” Charity scrunches her nose up in mild disgust, pulling a light laugh from Vanessa. “Something we have in common, apparently.” Charity wiggles her eyebrows playfully.

Vanessa scowls back at her but she can’t fight the way a smile splits her lips. “Should I be offended?” She asks with feigned scandal. “At least you have a good excuse, being a pirate an’ that.”

“‘Scuse you.” Charity says, grinning at Vanessa. “I’ll ‘ave you know, there’s been plenty of opportunities, taken most of them, an all.” Vanessa remembers then, _Lady Tate_.

Faith had told her the night before about the three husbands Charity had had, all dead now. She gulps, more out of apprehension than fear. She’s not scared of Charity, not in the slightest, even after hearing what Faith had to say, because there’s something about the other woman that makes her feel uncommonly at ease with the world around her.

Charity must notice something in the way she’s sitting, tense with silent curiosity, swiftly jumping in before Vanessa asks about what’s playing on her mind. “What’s your excuse, then?” Vanessa gives her a look of confusion and Charity jumps to clarify. “No husband?”

Vanessa rolls her eyes but continues smiling despite the flash of her son that flickers behind her eyes. “S’pose I just never met the right person.” She says, shrugging dismissively.

Charity scoffs at her vague excuse of an answer. “I’m sure you had plenty of blokes throwing themselves at you, surely one of those must ‘ave been worth it?” Her eyes darken as she speaks, raking her gaze up the front of Vanessa discernibly. “Beautiful woman like you...” It sounds as though she’s going to add something to the end of the sentence, but Charity trails off, finding the statement enough and shrugs.

A burning heat that starts low in Vanessa’s stomach, spurred on by the low gravel of Charity’s voice, forces its way through her body like a forest fire, filling her cheeks with a deep red blush. She lets out a shy laugh, ducking her head slightly but she can’t bear to drop Charity’s gaze. “There were a few.” She says. “No one special enough to stick around.”

“Their loss.” Charity waves, leaning in closer to Vanessa. “My gain.” Her voice ghosts across Vanessa’s already burning skin, only adding fuel to the fire.

There’s a knock at the door, just as Vanessa think’s Charity’s about to move impossibly closer, breaking the two women apart and with it, bringing a disappointing cold air to the space that now separates them both. Charity groans out her frustration, passing the bottle back to Vanessa a little more forcibly than she probably means to and storms over to her door. She swings it open revealing a tall bald man wearing glasses and looking all too nervous.

“What d’you want, Paddy?” She snaps impatiently.

His face turns beet red. “Captain, I… well not me... Cain-” Paddy stutters out, flustered and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. “Cain, wanted me to come get you.” 

“What’s he want?” She grunts. Paddy, glances over her shoulder and meets Vanessa’s eyes, they quickly shoot back to Charity, but she gets the hint, letting out a tired sigh, shoulders slumping in dejection. “Tell him I’ll be out in a sec.”

She slams the door in his face before he gets the chance to reply, turning apologetically to Vanessa, a sad smile on her face. She sips at the rum patiently, watching as Charity makes her way over to the desk where she’d tossed her coat earlier.

She half expects Charity to just leave without another word, but she makes her way back over to Vanessa. “There’s a few clothes in that chest there.” She says gesturing behind the couch. “Should be something for you to sleep in.”

“Thank you.” Vanessa sets the bottle down on the floor and stands.

“An’ if you want to wash up, there’s a bowl over there.” Charity doesn’t point in any specific direction, just waves her hand dismissively to the far corner of the room. “I’ll send someone to fetch hot water.” She says, taking a reluctant step back. She’s just about to open the door when she looks over her shoulder. “Oh! You can take the bed, an all.”

-

The sun’s just peaking over the horizon when Charity finally returns to her room. Vanessa has her face buried deep in the pillows on the bed, the scent of rum and something florally smoky drowns her in everything Charity and she reluctantly lifts her head to watch the other woman slump into the chair behind the desk.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” She grunts, rubbing tiredly at her own face before she pulls out a rumpled roll of paper and unfolds it in front of her. From the markings on it that Vanessa can see from the bed, she guesses it’s a map, but it’s faded and torn and the details are blurred.

“It’s okay.” She says, tossing the covers off her body, exposing her bare thighs that the white cotton shirt she’d pulled out of the chest the night before can’t cover. She reaches up above her head, stretching out the kinks in her back with a satisfied groan. “Where are we?”

When Vanessa looks over to Charity, she catches the other woman’s eyes trained on her uncovered legs, gaze turning black and an almost amused smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Far ‘nough away from Port Royal that we’re not gonna be bothered.” She says furtively. “Got you some breakfast, if you’re hungry.” Charity says, waving her hand towards the couch where a small silver plate is sat haphazardly on the arm.

With a gentle blush creeping up Vanessa’s neck, she wordlessly stands, feeling the cold sea air seeping in through the cracked open window against her skin and she shivers, deciding to take the scarlet throw with her, wrapping it over her shoulders so she doesn’t have to sit on the no doubt freezing leather of the couch. “Thank you, Charity.” She says softly, pulling the plate into her lap. It’s not much, but she assumes she can’t expect to have much more than this. Some pieces of fruit and the hard end of a bread roll, it’s enough.

Charity pulls her coat off, followed by the green leather vest she’s wearing beneath it, leaving her only in the faded shirt, similar to the one Vanessa has on now. She looks good, Vanessa thinks, the muscles of her forearms rippling as she scribbles down notes and marks out coordinates with a compass. “We’ll be arrivin’ in Tortuga in a week.” She says, not lifting her eyes from the piles of paper on her desk.

Vanessa nods, picking at the bread. “Can I ask ‘bout that?” Charity still doesn’t look up from her desk but nods anyway. “Is it safe there? For me, a mean.” She says and Charity finally looks up when she hears the insecurity in her voice. “Only, I’ve heard-”

“You’re safe as long as you’re with me.” Charity says quickly, trying to quell any fear Vanessa has. “I have friends there, or,” she frowns slightly at her own words, “as good as.”

Vanessa finishes up her breakfast, trailing a finger over the British insignia printed in the bottom of the plate and she wonders for a second, how much of the belongings in this room are actually Charity’s own, and not stolen.

“You can grab anythin’ you want out of that chest, anythin’ in here, actually.” Charity says, standing with a vagie wave around the room. “I’ll be up at the helm if you want some fresh air.” She makes to move towards the door, but veers close to Vanessa, reaching out and giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “I want to properly introduce you to some people.”

-

By the time Vanessa has changed into what she now knows are Charity’s clothes, a tight-fitting pair of leather trousers and a white shirt, similar to the one she’d worn for bed, it’s late in the morning, the sun a little bit higher in the sky.

Vanessa can’t remember the last time she’d stepped foot outside during the day without the chocking restraint of a corset wrapping around her lungs. It’s an unexpected feeling, being able to draw in a healthy amount of oxygen into her body without having to fight against the outfit she’s managed to squeeze into.

There’s a light chill in the air, carried on the wind, but its barely noticeable as the sun beats down hot and heavy on the deck of the ship. Vanessa closes the door behind her, hearing voices from above, up at the helm. A scattering of crew members that are stood working on the deck in front of her, one mopping the stained wood, others tying knots in hefty ropes, all stop to stare as the light hits her skin.

She quickly diverts her eyes, finding the boots on her feet far more interesting than the pirate’s eyeing her up with a mixture of interest and caution. Vanessa quickly makes her way up the steps, the wind harsher at the top but it almost comes as a relief.

Charity, Cain, Paddy and two other men, taller than the rest, are all huddled around the wheel. When Paddy spots Vanessa over the captain’s shoulder, he clears his throat and they all turn on their heels to face her.

“Ah, you’re here.” Charity says, smiling as she gestures for Vanessa to come closer. “Jus’ wanted you to meet a few people.”

One of the taller men that Vanessa doesn’t know the name of, grins and waves at her with a cheerful air that opposes Cain’s broodiness. “Marlon.” He says, jutting his hand out towards her. “Ship cook.” And then, gesturing to the man beside her with a jerk of his thumb, he says, “This is Billy, my stepson.”

“Vanessa.” She says, accepting the hand with a tight-lipped smile, guarded. Billy returns the smile but doesn’t make a move to say anything.

“You’ve already met Paddy.” Charity interjects, ushering Marlon and Billy away. “He’s our surgeon.” Paddy offers a polite smile but doesn’t move, his face burning pink. “And this grouch is Cain, First Mate.” Cain doesn’t even look at Vanessa, which doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. He doesn’t seem at all pleased she’s here and obviously doesn’t mind showing his distaste to her presence on the Merciless. “Don’t mind him.”

“Run’s in the family, tha’ does.” Marlon says, nudging Charity’s shoulder, grinning again. “I’m an exception of course.” Vanessa frowns at Charity, more out of confusion than anything else. Not because she doesn’t doubt Charity has a temper, but because of the implication of Marlon’s words.

Charity catches on fast. “He’s my cousin, too.” She thrusts a finger over her shoulder at him and smiles, almost shyly. “Big family, like a said.” Vanessa nods, unsure how to respond to that, and begins to shuffle nervously from foot to foot. “Anyway,” Charity says, stepping between Paddy and Marlon, smacking them on their backs hard enough to make them grunt in discomfort. “Since you’ll be taggin’ along, you’re gonna have to pull your weight.” The smile on her face reassures Vanessa that she isn’t going to have to help raid the next village they find or have any part in stealing a ship, but she understands her situation enough to know Charity’s got a point. “So, I’ll let you decide, help Marlon in the galley or Paddy below deck with his patients.” She says like she’s offering up two of her prize cattle.

“Well…” Vanessa says, looking between the two men. “As much as I like cooking, I do have some experience in the medical field.” She shrugs smiling up at Paddy as he gives a little bounce of excitement.

“Really?” Charity’s eyes widen in surprise, and she gives Vanessa an appreciative once over, crossing her arms smugly. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises.”

“That’s really great, Vanessa.” Paddy says, tugging on Marlon’s arm. “I’ll see you in a bit, leave you two to talk.”

The three men trudge down the steps and onto the deck, Cain barking orders at the crew Vanessa had seen before. From where she’s stood with her back pressed against the side of the ship, she can see the ropes tied to the mast being pulled as the sails are risen and the ship begins to pick up its pace.

“This experience, then.” Charity pipes up after a moment, her hands gripping the rudder firmly. “You a nurse or somethin’?”

Vanessa shakes her head and drops her eyes to her feet. “Not exactly, no.” She says, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Sensing a change in Vanessa’s demeanour, Charity ties up the wheel, keeping the ship on a steady course and moves to stand on front of the other woman. “My mum was a vet, I used to help her a lot before she died.”

Vanessa feels Charity’s hands clasp the tops of her arms tightly and it makes her look up, meeting those deep green eyes with her own. “You don’t ‘ave to do anythin’ you don’t want to.” She says, trying her best to reassure Vanessa on the matter with a shrug that comes across as almost uninterested. “Could always set you up with Bob, he mops the decks.” Charity teases as an amused grin tugs at her lips. “Or Aaron, how are you with heights?”

Vanessa shakes her head, laughing gently, she doesn’t need to look up to find who she assumes to be Aaron in the crow’s nest. “It’s fine, really. She’s been gone for a long time, now.” She steps aside, making a move to the stairs. “Charity?” She says, calling over her shoulder before she leaves. The captain looks up from where she’s got her hands back on the rudder, the wind blowing through long blonde hair, giving her an air of grace that she wouldn’t have thought would have been possible for a pirate. “Thank you, for everything.”

Charity shoots her a tight-lipped smile before Vanessa descends onto the deck. She hears a bellow of “ _raise the flag_ ” before black skull and crossbones begins to flap in the wind above her head. 

-

Vanessa finishes expertly bandaging up the amputation, checking that the knot in the bandage will hold before she makes her way over to a cold bowl of water and rinses off the drying blood, watching the liquid turn a faint brownish-red.

Paddy’s stood in the doorway observing from a distance. He smiles, pleased with her work and gives a tilt of his head, gesturing for her to follow. “So, figured since you’d be workin’ with me an all, that it made sense…” he trails off, his nervous stutter playing through his words. He leads her further below deck and towards a door at the back of a room filled with hanging hammocks, all rocking in time with the methodical sway of the ship. He stops in the room, a bed pressed against the back wall with another under a small round window. The rooms lived in enough that Vanessa knows it must be Paddy’s, but it holds no flame to Charity’s own quarters. While there are drawings and paintings pinned to the walls, books and papers littering a desk with an unlit lantern perched beside it, it doesn’t have any of the luxuries of Charity’s own room, with her cotton sheets and leather couch and book cases. “I don’t snore too bad anymore, Cain gave me a good thump in the face, and it cleared right up.”

She’s a little disappointed that this means she won’t be living in Charity’s room anymore, but she supposes it makes sense, as much as the thought disheartens her, that she should share with Paddy. It makes life easier for the both of them, if they’re to be taking care of the crew’s injured and sick members. Most of them are riddled with battle scars and wounds that need constant attention, however, there are a few showing advanced signs of other infections that she knows could have only been contracted through too much time spent with numerous sexual partners. Some, she knows how to treat, others, though, have no cure, and all the pair can do is make the men as comfortable as possible. “Thank you, Paddy.” She says, making her way over to the bed beneath the window that looks to be untouched. “This one mine?” She asks.

Paddy hums and sits himself down at the precariously built chair by the desk. “I get sea sick, you see, so I try to stay away from windows...”

Vanessa nods and tries to give a believable look of understanding.

“Here.” He tosses Vanessa a leather flask and it sloshes in her hands when she catches it. “Water.” Paddy clarifies when she shoots him a questioning look. “Keep the flask, too, you’ll be allowed two refills a day ‘til we reach land.”

Vanessa feels a frown dip between her eyebrows at his words and tries to ignore the familiar feeling of doubt that settles in her stomach, something she’s only ever been used to feeling when her father had come into question. “Charity rations the water?”

“The _captain_ ,” Paddy’s tone sounds almost admonishing, correcting her, but he continues on before Vanessa can apologise or interrupt, “has to, we only carry a few barrels worth of fresh water on short sails like this. When we reach Tortuga, we’ll refill.” He explains simply, standing and making a move towards the door, silently beckoning her to follow with a jerk of his head. They make their way back through the hammocked lined room and up a narrow staircase that leads back onto the main deck. “It’s not too bad, enough t’keep you hydrated. An’ sometimes it’s good to water down the rum with, lasts longer that way.” He says, plonking himself down unceremoniously onto a barrel beneath the mainsail.

Vanessa sits down beside him, thinking back to the night before when Charity and she had shared the potent rum between themselves, finishing the bottle easily. The doubt trickles away when she remembers the way Charity had leant into her, had placed gentle touches against her skin and had observed her with almost unrecognisable desire.

She finds her eyes wandering up to where Charity is still stood at the helm, the wind having died down and the temperature rising steadily, has left the captain raised at the rudder, coatless with her arms bared like carefully carved stone and her hair in gentle waves over her shoulders. She’s talking to Cain with a stiff, unreadable expression on her face, but she keeps her eyes glued ahead at the horizon, nothing but open sea for miles with not a sign of land in sight.

Paddy must realise that Vanessa is no longer listening to him rattle on about monotonous rationings of other items upon the ship and stops. He follows her line of sight and lets out a reluctant huff of a sigh. “You should be careful.”

“S’cuse me?” Vanessa asks, arching an eyebrow at him as his words register in her foggy brain.

Paddy flounders, stuttering around gasps of air as his cheeks burn red and he pushes up his glasses like a nervous tick. “I… I, erm…” His eyes flicker between Vanessa and the deck, all confidence from seconds before seeping away. “I didn’t mean to over step, or anything, I, erm, I just…”

“If you’re going to tell me how evil and dangerous she is, then really, there’s no need.” Vanessa snaps with a little more bite to her words than she means to. She’s heard a lot of malicious words used to describe Charity in the past two days first from Faith, then her sister, some from her father and now Paddy. It seems to her, that a lot of people have a lot to say about the captain, but none of it good. And maybe, if she’d never met the woman first hand, witnessed the level of her kindness and gentility, she’d be inclined to believe them. However, she has gotten to know Charity, albeit only marginally, but she does feel she’s got a decent grasp on the other woman’s behaviour, knows she’s perfectly safe with Charity despite all the warnings against her.

Anyway, she’s perfectly capable of looking out for herself. Has done for the majority of her adult life, she doesn’t need people pushing their own opinions on her, let alone ones she knows to be completely incorrect.

Vanessa’s a good judge of character, when the character she’s judging is Charity, she hopes.

“I didn’t mean that, I just…” Paddy slumps against the mast. “She’s really great, honestly, and, and yes, she is dangerous, but her _enemies_ ,” he leans forward, propping himself up on his knee. “Vanessa, she’s got a lot of those and many who wouldn’t stop at killing those closest to her, to bring her down.”

Vanessa feels a pang of guilt in her gut, realising she’s jumped the gun a bit with Paddy and she feels her features soften. “I’ll be careful.” She reassures him, trying to smile around the bitterness in her mouth. Truth is, though, she’s not entirely sure she’s being honest because all she’s been feeling lately is the urge to know who Charity really is, to dive in head first into everything that is Charity, to have everything and be everything.

Their conversation is cut short before Paddy can warn her away anymore by a shadow that looms over their heads, blocking out the sun with a sudden coldness. “Captain wants you.” Cain grunts. “Just her.” He says, pushing Paddy back down onto the barrel by his shoulder and Vanessa has to gulp down the fluttering she feels in her throat when she looks up to Charity, trying hard not to look back, her eyes fixed on the sails, but Vanessa catches the quick flicker of green in her direction and smiles. “Need you to sort my back again.”

The sound of Cain’s voice trails off, shrouded by the crashing of white capped waves against the side of the ship once Vanessa reaches the steps up to the helm. She takes in a deep, composing breath of sea air, and slowly climbs.

“Took your time.” Charity mumbles, jotting something down on the map strewn across the ledge to the side of the rudder, she keeps her eyes purposefully glued to the paper.

Vanessa smirks, sidling up beside the other woman and leans cockily against the edge of the railings. “Bit impatient?” At this, Charity looks up with a smile in her eyes as they roll playfully at her words.

She hums coyly and stands to her full height, peering down at Vanessa with a tight smirk playing at the edge of her lip. “I wanted to talk to you ‘bout Tortuga.” She says cautiously.

Her tone takes Vanessa by surprise, it doesn’t come out arrogant and sure as her words normally do, now she sounds hesitant and standoffish and it makes her feel suddenly insecure and uneasy. “Oh?”

Vanessa watches curiously, as Charity ties the wheel in place and makes her way over to the stern, hoisting herself up onto the railing so that her feet dangle a few inches from the ground. She pats the space beside her, beckoning Vanessa over to her. “Obviously it’s up to you.” She starts, watching her own feet sway when Vanessa gets comfortable beside her. “But I own a bit of land up there, an’ the woman and her son who looks after it for me could probably do with an extra hand.”

Vanessa frowns, slowly beginning to realise where the conversation is heading, and something plummets into the pit of her stomach like an icy clump of lead. She chooses not to say anything, however, keeping her lips tightly shut in favour of hearing Charity out, first.

Charity begins to pick at a bit of skin on her thumb, her words coming out through a forced breath. “You could stay there, if you fancied a change. Far enough away from Frank and everythin’ else.”

A harsh tone is riddling her words before Vanessa can think to calm herself. “You don’t want me to stay, then?” She speaks more out of hurt than anything else, maybe feeling slightly let down and disappointed that she’s allowed herself to grow strangely attached to this woman within a matter of days. _Stupid_. She thinks, because of course Charity couldn’t ever care about a woman like her. They’re from two completely different worlds, worlds that could never, and shoulder never overlap.

“Have dinner with me tonight?”

Vanessa feels the whiplash like a palpable force, the one-eighty making her head spin violently. “Wh- what?”

Charity lets the façade drop from her face, features twisting into one of annoyance. “Look, just let me explain properly later?” She says almost pleadingly, beginning Vanessa not to make this harder for either of them.

“Fine.” Vanessa hops down with a heavy thud. “I’m gonna go check up on an amputation.” She says, not looking back as she spots Paddy wandering around the deck and she follows after him with a heaviness in her gut that hadn’t been there that morning.

-

It’s pitch black when Vanessa finishes up checking on the amputee for the last time that night. His fever’s spiked, and she’s spent most of her day soaking rags in cold water to lay over his sweaty body. She’s not sure he’s going to make it to Tortuga, and she knows she doesn’t want to be around when they eventually toss the body overboard, despite hoping against her better judgement that it won’t have to come to that.

Bob’s mopping the floor outside Paddy’s room as she leaves to wash up. He gives her a polite smile, stepping aside to let her pass. “You joining us for dinner in a bit?” He asks, shoving the end of the mop into bucket filled with murky water. “We usually have a bit of a celebration when someone joins… unless Jimmy gets drunk then things usually escalate…”

Vanessa doesn’t want to ask what that means, doesn’t want to dwell on the idea of a group of grown men putting on a show for her. “The captain asked me to have dinner with her tonight.” She says apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s no bother. Maybe after.” He says, but she doesn’t hang around long enough before she’s shoving the door to her room open and slumping down onto her bed with a heavy sigh.

Paddy looks up from his book at the desk and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Was that Bob?” Tiredly, Vanessa hums out a dismissive confirmation, her eyes drooping heavily. “Nice fella.” Paddy says as though he’s trying to approve of something in his own mind. “He’s been with us from the beginning.”

“Is there anywhere I can wash up?” Vanessa forces herself into an upright position, ignoring the protests of her tired bones.

Paddy points to an old rag sat beside a questionable looking bowl of water beside his desk that looks like it’s been poured straight from Bob’s bucket. “Going somewhere?” He asks curiously.

“Gonna grab some dinner.” She says cryptically, hoping he doesn’t question her. After the conversation they’d had earlier, she’s not sure she’s ready to hear anymore admonishing of her decisions to spend time with Charity.

“Oh!” Paddy says excitedly. “I’ll come with you, introduce you to the rest of the crew properly.” He’s already jumping to his feet before she can tell him no, dragging her towards the door by the sleeve of her shirt.

“Paddy…” She tires but it’s no use, he’s already pulling her up another set of steps into the room filled with hammocks, the rest of the crew gathered in a wide circle, lanterns filling the room with warm light and there’s soft tinny music sounding from a stringed instrument in the hands of a well-built, balding man in the far corner.

The men go silent at the sight of her, Marlon and Billy grinning from ear to ear while the others seem to watch her with guarded curiosity. “Don’t worry,” Paddy whispers, “they’ll get used to you being around.”

Vanessa gives him a tight-lipped smile in response, trying to avoid Cain’s icy glare from the far end of the room.

“This is Vanessa.” Marlon says to the rest of the crew. “She’s the boss’ friend so, keep it clean, yeah?” She can tell he’s teasing but the confirmation that she arrived here with Charity only seems to raise the tension in the room. “Food?” He asks, rounding the men with a plate, holding it out for her to take, and a flagon of what she assumes will be watered down rum.

“Thank you.” She accepts the offering with a hesitant nod, not wanting to offend anyone by turning the poor excuse for food down. Paddy’s already tugging her over to a bench, sitting her between Bob and himself, flanking her almost protectively. “Paddy-”

“You decided to join us instead, then?” Bob nudges her side, beaming around the top of his drink. Vanessa doesn’t say anything, choosing to pick at the stale bread absentmindedly as her thoughts wander to Charity. However, she almost feels relieved that she’s not there, delaying the inevitable rejection despite the pang of guilt and irritation she feels tinging her thoughts black. “Just in time, see.” Bob waves his hand at the man with the guitar as he begins to play again. “That’s Jimmy.” He explains.  

“Is he drunk?” Vanessa asks around a mouthful of what she hopes to god is meat…

Scoffing from her other side, Paddy lets out a dry laugh. “When’s he not?”

The music picks up and hearty laughter and singing fills the lower deck, warming Vanessa somewhat and surprisingly she finds herself swaying along to the tune. It reminds her of the night in the tavern, back in Port Royal, a moment of lightness and belonging filling her with cordiality. The tension in the room seems to dissipate, and the men forget she’s even there, blurring into just another member of the crew.

Bob laughs out his own agreement, nodding enthusiastically. “Much more entertaining than our captain, eh, Paddy?”

Whiplash. She’s had enough of it today. Her gut being dragged away from the rest of her body with a sudden lurch. It settles with a familiar reminder of a time after Johnny, her emotions flipping this way and that, her friends tip toeing around her as though she could snap at any given moment.

Vanessa finds herself scowling into her drink, gulping the warm liquid down before her mouth decides to speak without her permission. Paddy must notice Vanessa’s purposeful silence because he quickly jumps in with a light air to his voice. “Don’t get us wrong, Vanessa, she’s brilliant and smart and… and she’s a very respectable woman.” He interjects. “But she tends to keep herself to herself, most nights.”

“You could invite her to join you?” Vanessa shrugs because she thinks that what he’s said is true but there’s something about Charity that seems sad, lonely even.

Both Bob and Paddy seem almost taken aback by the mere suggestion and Billy cranes his neck around Marlon to give her an amused smirk. “Well…” Paddy begins to stutter in that nervous way. “I mean we could, but that, that wouldn’t be right, would it?”

“Why not?” She asks simply.

Bob cuts in this time, saving Paddy from anymore embarrassment. “Well it’s just that, well she’s the _captain_ , isn’t she?” He shrugs, realising there’s no valid argument to be had. “It would be weird.”

Relenting – there’s no point in trying to change their minds – Vanessa turns back to her drink, downing the last of the rum before handing it to Paddy for a refill.

She has two more drinks on top of that, deciding to wait the rest of the evening out in silence until the first of the crew begin to fall asleep and filter off back to their hammocks. Vanessa’s suitably tipsy when she finally excuses herself from the group in favour of ‘ _some fresh air,’_ and makes her way above deck.

The wind’s Baltic as it blows across the top of the ship, whipping Vanessa’s hair across her face. The chill in the air is a shock to the system, emphasising the effects of the alcohol as it thrums through her veins, but she shoves the inebriated feeling aside and forces her feet onwards and up the steps towards Charity’s quarters beneath the helm.

She comes to a stop outside the door and pulls in a calming breath. She had enjoyed spending the evening with the crew below deck, listening to them sing and tell stories, laughing the whole time, but that happiness wasn’t even a fraction of the amount she feels when she’s in the captain’s presence.

So, allowing her heart to calm somewhat, and the air in her lungs to seep into her blood, she raps her knuckles gently against the door and waits.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones more of a filler chapter I suppose, it's shorter than the rest but I hope you all enjoy it anyway.

Vanessa feels like she’s waiting hours before Charity finally opens the door, bright light spilling out into the blackness behind her. Her smile falters, however, when Charity wordlessly steps aside and walks over to her desk, slumping into the chair tiredly.

Vanessa hesitantly steps inside and closes the door behind her with a gentle click. She hovers awkwardly inside the room, watching Charity scribble something down in a journal and sipping out of a silver goblet. It’s not rum, she doesn’t think, probably wine, if the red stain on her lips is anything to go by, and definitely not her first. She slides a plate of food across the desk, waiting for Vanessa to take the chair opposite her.

It all seems oddly formal, even for the other woman and it sets Vanessa slightly on edge as she takes the seat and settles down comfortably into it. She opens her mouth to say something but thinks better of it when Charity shoots her a warning glance, silencing any question that’s about to slip from her lips.

The quiet lasts longer than she feels even Charity is comfortable with but neither of them make a move to talk. The only sound filling the room is the scratching of pencil on paper and the crashing of waves outside Charity’s open window. She’d found it soothing, the night before, the sound of the waves had lulled her to sleep faster than she’d ever managed to before, and even now, she feels it calming some of the tension that’s been building over the past two minutes.

“Didn’t think you were going to show up.” Charity says, her voice coming out through an almost whisper.

She’s hurt, Vanessa realises then, with her jaw clenched, biting back something she’s trying not to say. “Paddy sort of dragged me with him to eat with the crew.” Vanessa says almost shamefully, she keeps her head ducked down as though she’s been reprimanded by her father.

Charity hums but there’s a lightness to her tone, she waits for Vanessa to meet her eyes before she starts speaking, reassuring the other woman that she’s not as hurt as she’d first seemed. “You ‘ave fun?” She asks, tapping her fingers down onto the desk in a random rhythm.

Vanessa cocks her head to the side, feigning indifference. “Jimmy’s singing kind of ruined the evening.” She feels her heart flutter when Charity smirks at her response. “An’ Paddy is a nice, bloke, but I didn’t enjoy holding him up while he drank the ship dry…”

Charity does laugh this time and the tension between them seems to lift. “No one gave you any trouble though?” Vanessa shakes her head appreciatively of Charity’s concern. “Good.” She says, leaning back in her chair and kicking her feet up onto the desk. “Well if you’re not gonna eat tha’…” she snatches up the plate and clears it within a few short minutes.

Vanessa can’t hold back the smile as she watches. “So, you’re not gonna make me walk the plank for being late, then?”

Charity rolls her eyes. “We don’t actually make people do that, y’know?”

She pouts teasingly, crossing her arms over her chest. “What _do_ you do then?”

“Usually just kill ‘em and toss ‘em.” She’s so casual in her explanation that it almost takes Vanessa by surprise, but she’s a pirate after all, and it’s something to be expected so Vanessa keeps her face straight, allowing a small eye roll to pass between them. She should be horrified, she knows this, she should be terrified of this woman sat opposite her, but the reality is that Vanessa has never felt as safe as she does now, so enraptured by another woman’s beauty…

“You tellin’ me more about Tortuga then?” Vanessa stands and makes her way over to the window, keeping her back to Charity to hide her face, readying herself for the pending disappointment to wash over her again in favour of feeling the unfamiliar fluttering of her heart against her ribs. Of course, it’s too dark to see anything beyond her own reflection in the coloured glass, but it keeps her distracted for a moment, see her hair slightly windswept and her cheeks red with the sea air.

Charity comes up to stand behind her, meeting her eyes in the reflection. “It was only a suggestion, Ness.” She says, the nickname slipping out effortlessly. Vanessa can only balk in response, the heat in her chest spreading through her like fire. “I actually quite like having you around, a bit. An’ I only mentioned it ‘cause Cain made a good point-”

“What’s Cain got to do with this?” Vanessa asks, turning to face Charity as her confusion ripples across her face, dipping her forehead into a frown. She figures going on the offensive is a better option than rolling over and submitting to whatever suggestion Cain whispers into his captain’s ear, better than listening to the little voice in the back of her mind that’s telling her to look at the flecks of amber in Charity’s eyes.

Charity sighs, allowing her shoulders to drop. “There’s a job coming up.” She starts, tentatively lacing her fingers with Vanessa’s as she pulls her over to the couch. “It’s gonna be dangerous an’ we have a lot on the line.” Vanessa drops down beside her, listening carefully. “We just can’t risk anything happening.”

“Can’t risk me getting in the way you mean?” She says, turning in her seat to face away, pulling one of the rough cushions into her lap. “You could have jus’ said that.”

“No, wait, Vanessa.” Charity says quickly. Tugging Vanessa’s hand away from a loose thread and she squeezes it gently in her own, willing her to look at her again. “It’s not like that, well… it is, but just ‘cause Cain think’s you’ll be a distraction.”

“Why does it matter what he thinks?” Vanessa snaps again but let’s Charity keep a tight hold of her hand.

Charity scoffs. “'Cause he’s the one who takes over this ship if anything happens to me an’…” she trails off, gulping. “An’ he’s not wrong.”

Frowning Vanessa leans back, eyes flickering across every inch of the other woman’s face, trying to gage an understanding pooling inside deep green irises.

“I just want you to be safe, that’s all, no pressure for you to stay or leave.” Charity holds her free hand up, conceding. “Pirates promise.” She brings her hand down to her chest, covering her heart.

It does reassure Vanessa, somewhat, but she needs to settle the doubt in her mind before she can sleep soundly. “He thinks I’ll distract you?” Charity’s eyes drop to their conjoined hands and its all the confirmation Vanessa needs. “Charity,” she says purposefully, “I want to stay here, with you, and strangely enough, Paddy, too.” A dry laugh sounds between them. “But I only want that if it’s what you want, yeah?”

Vanessa can practically hear the cogs turning in Charity’s brain as she thinks over her response, the air weighing heavily between them. “You and me both know, Ness, that I’m dangerous to be around.” She says, sounding disappointed with herself. “I’m a pirate for Christ’s sake, I _kill_ people, I kill people without even giving it a second thought.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me, though.” Vanessa states like she’s reading straight from a book, like the evidence is right there in front of her and maybe she’s being naïve and childish but she believes it with every breath she takes. 

“Not on purpose no, but other people might.” She’s desperately trying to get Vanessa to see the bigger picture, that this right now, the two of them holed away in her cabin isn’t the same as the world outside. “We don’t just sail around stopping here an’ there. We fight, we kill, murder…” She rubs at the back of her neck. “You’ve seen those guys below deck, the ones you an’ Paddy ‘ave been treating? They weren’t accidents.”

“I know, Charity.” Vanessa isn’t dumb or blind to the world that she’s suddenly fallen into, she knew what was happening the night she first glimpsed the captain in the tavern, could feel herself being drawn into this life before she even understood, herself. And even now, she knows what’s at risk, but all of that seems irrelevant when she’s with Charity. “I get it, okay, but I still want to stay here.” _I want to stay with you,_ the words go unspoken but she’s positive Charity hears them regardless, looking up to meet Vanessa’s eyes with her own. “Let me stay, please?”

Charity blurts out a humourless laugh, shaking her head to herself in disbelief. “I doubt I’d be able to say no, even if a wanted to.”

Vanessa tries not to come across too cocky as she wiggles her eyebrows playfully at Charity. “You could always teach me how to fight with a sword, that way you don’t have to worry about me?” She’s only half joking, she tells herself, because the thought of her even holding a sword seems ridiculous, even to her, but Charity _teaching_ her to use one? That sets off a spark deep in her stomach and she has to physically gulp the thought back down.

Charity barks out her amusement, eyes widening in mock horror. “Oh, I don’t think so, kid, don’t need me arm chopped before we even settle this job.” She says, pleased with herself when Vanessa holds her hand over her chest and gasps.

“I wouldn’t do that.” She says incredulously. Charity can only hum in response, allowing a soft smile to slip onto her face, allowing a contented silence to settle between them. “You’ll be glad to get your bed back tonight.” Vanessa gives Charity’s hand a soft squeeze before she drops it, standing.

“Dunno ‘bout that.” Charity says, following Vanessa over to the door. “Quite enjoyed listenin’ to you snore an’ drooling on my pillow.”

Vanessa playfully slaps at Charity’s arm. “I don’t do either of those things.”

Charity leans smugly against the door frame, tilting her head and giving Vanessa an appreciative once over. “You do.” She states simply. “But at least no one’ll notice while you’re bunkin’ with Paddy, like a fog horn, that’n.”

Vanessa wraps her arms around herself, bracing herself for the impending wave of icy cold air to hit her. “He said he doesn’t snore anymore.”

Sneering, Charity lets out a choked sound akin to a laugh. “Yeah, stopped for a while after Cain thumped him one, but even I can ‘ear it up here.”

“Great…”

“I’m sure you’ll manage, an’ hey, you can always take the couch, if it gets bad?” She shoves at Vanessa’s arm, straightening up as she tilts her head towards the couch behind them.

“Here’s me thinkin’ you’d be nice and offer to share.” Vanessa says daringly, feeling a hot flush creep up her neck at the thought.

“Pirates don’t share, love.” Charity chuckles.

Vanessa shoves her back. “You can’t keep saying that.”

“’Course I can.” Charity states simply. “Who’s gonna stop me? Your dad?” She takes a step closer, closing in on Vanessa’s personal space. “ _You_?”

The heat between them erupts with a sudden force that makes her knees feel weak. Vanessa can feel it against every inch of her skin, those emerald green eyes gazing into her soul. Charity knows fine well what she’s doing to her, if the knowing smirk on her face is anything to go by. So, gulping down her nerves, Vanessa steps closer, the tops of her thighs and her chest flushed firmly against Charity’s and she leans in.

“Good night, Charity.” Her words husk out through a fluttering breath and she places a fleeting kiss to the corner of the captain’s mouth, pulling away far too quickly for either of their liking.

The contact seems to have effected Charity more than she’s willing to show – eyes darkened to an almost pitch black abyss and a burning blush on her high cheekbones – clearing her throat roughly, she steps aside, and Vanessa pulls the door open, gasping as the cold air hits her like a punch to the gut.

She almost misses the whispered ‘night, Ness’ over the howl of wind through the ropes and sails hanging from the masts.

-

Paddy and Vanessa retreat quietly up the steps with solemn expressions creeping onto their faces. She feels queasy and knows her face will be pale and clammy, the amputee below deck having taken a turn for the worst, and with no way of helping ease the raging infection stemming from the leg, they leave him be, hoping his body can fight on its own.

They drop to the deck dismally with little care for bruising as their backs thud against the side of the ship, sliding down pitifully into a slump on the ground. Vanessa brings her knees up to her chest, tossing her arms over the top of them and buries her face in her bicep. Paddy kicks his feet out in front and lets his head fall back, allowing a broken sigh to reverberate around his lungs before blowing it out into the cool sea air.  

Vanessa grits her teeth, feeling the pain through her jaw as she finally looks up, eyes meeting the lone cloud following above them. “Did you use a clean blade?” she asks, a little more bitterly than she means to, her mind wandering to the pirate’s leg, red, inflamed and leaking. She knows the leg was cauterised, expectedly, straight after the leg was taken, and she _knows_ it’s the best way to stop the bleeding in a situation where they’re under attack, but that knowledge doesn’t stop the anger bubbling up in her chest.

“As clean as one can be on here.” Paddy says regretfully. “It would be different if we were on land.”

Vanessa can’t say anything, her eyes welling with burning hot tears and her bottom lip trembles.

Paddy drops his hand to her knee, giving it a hard squeeze. “This happens, Vanessa.” He says, keeping his eyes glued straight ahead. “We’re lucky it wasn’t so bad this time…” Voice shaking, he clears his throat and gulps down a croak. “We’ve ‘ad worse.”

“What happened?” Vanessa asks, picking at a frayed thread on the hem of Charity’s borrowed shirt she’d thrown on that morning.

Shrugging, Paddy wiggles to get comfortable, bumping into her side. “Sorry.” He mumbles, pushing his glasses up his nose. “This time?” Vanessa nods. “Well, erm, we were up north,” he starts, “ran into a bit’a trouble with some trade ships. Wasn’t too hard to fight ‘em off, they don’t have the gun power we do, but, well, they still have _some_ guns ‘an, well, yeah.” He says, bobbing his shoulders with a feeble dismissal.

“Does it happen much?” Vanessa asks, finally looking up with something akin to trepidation hardening in her chest like ice.

“Aye,” Paddy says, straightening up somewhat. “Least twice a month, usually. But it can be worse for us during the colder seasons, moral and all that can get low, makes it harder to pull through sometimes, an’ then you gotta counter in the effects of the weather, kills a lot of them off before they even see land.”

The thought’s daunting and it takes her brain a second to catch up to her. Paddy stands with a painful grunt, pressing his hand into her shoulder for leverage. “Take a break.” He says, wandering off to the other end of the ship where she spies Marlon shrugged against the far side.

Vanessa has always understood, to a degree, how the life of a pirate must work; constantly on the run, fighting, robbing, _killing_ even, but that’s just it, really. She’s only ever heard stories and tales, and that’s what this is now, Paddy recounting events that have only happened a few weeks ago, but now, she gets to witness the effects first hand, gets to feel the blow of each word that spills from his lips.

It’s the realisation that really takes her breath away like a hand reaching down into her lungs and squeezing the oxygen out of her, the realisation that this isn’t all just stories, but real life, where even the weather can kill you, something she’s never taken much notice of in her massive home, with her money and warmth and an almost endless supply of food. Security, she knows now has been taken for granted, her father shielding her away from the rest of the world.

Vanessa’s yanked from her thoughts when something hard smacks her in the side of her head, startling her back to reality. She blinks, the world around her coming back into focus and her eyes drop down to her lap, an orange laying between her thighs.

“I don’t have to peel it for you, do a?” The sound of Charity’s voice filters through and Vanessa squints against the sun to peer up at the other woman towering above her. “I could feed you, an’all, if you’re incapable.” Charity slumps down beside her when Vanessa doesn’t reply, picking up the orange and makes a show of peeling it, her thumb digging into the top.

Vanessa accepts the offered fraction of fruit, her hand lifting lazily, a trickle of exhaustion seeping through her veins. “Thanks.” She mutters, chewing slowly.

“Rough day?” Charity asks, keeping her eyes focused on the fruit in her hand. “Or did Paddy keep you up with his snoring?”

Vanessa manages a thin smile, subconsciously leaning into the warmth coming off of Charity’s arm. “Bit of both.” She says.

“Wanna, erm,” she pauses for show, pursing her lips uneasily, “talk about it?”

That sound of her uneasy tone makes Vanessa laugh, and she shakes her head. “Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She reassures teasingly.

“Oh, thank god, thought ad ‘ave to be nice, or somethin’.” Charity mockingly sighs out in relief, wiping at her forehead as she nudges Vanessa’s side in a vain attempt to life her spirits.

She’s trying to cheer her up regardless of whether she wants to be nice or not, Vanessa realises, and the sentiment eases some of the tension in her shoulders. “Suppose pirates don’t do that, either, eh?”

“Some do.” Charity counters, surprising Vanessa. “But only the bad ones.”

Vanessa’s tempted to point out all of the kind and generous things that Charity has done for her since their encounter on the beach but decides against it, not wanting to damage her ego too much. “Shouldn’t you be up there?” She snatches the orange out of Charity’s hand, waving it up towards the helm of the ship.

“Nah.” She says, bringing one leg up to lean her forearm against it, a piece of rope hanging from her hand. “Cain’s got it.”

Frowning, Vanessa tries to quell the strange bout of jealousy that prickles the back of her neck whenever she hears the other woman mention his name.

“Standing up there too long gives me a bad back.” Charity grumbles, unaware of the effect she’s had on Vanessa.

Vanessa scoffs. “Sure that’s not the old age?” She jokes, her laughter growing when Charity swats at her stomach.

“Cheeky cow.” She says, but she smiles genuinely despite her words. “Wanted to talk to you ‘bout Tortuga.” Charity speaks up after a moment, pulling a section of orange out of Vanessa’s hand as she’s about to pop it into her mouth, tossing it into her own instead with a smug grin. “I’m gonna need you to stay on the ship for a while, just ‘til I get some business sorted.”

Vanessa frowns. “What kind of business?” She asks, tugging on the piece of rope in Charity’s hand.

“Pirate stuff.” She shoots back. “It’s just this job coming up. Things might get a bit…” she pauses, weighing her hands in the air. “It’s just a precaution.” She settles on, tying a quick loop in the rope, pulling it tight so it can’t fall out and then undoes it, handing it to Vanessa with a nod for her to do the same. “The guy I’m meeting with, Foster, he’s just standing in while the big mans away.”

“So secretive.” Vanessa says sarcastically, holding the knot up to show Charity, grimacing at her poor attempt. “What’s the job?” she asks, handing the rope back over and watching the captain correct her mistake.

“I don’t think you can handle it.” Charity says, smirking. She gives Vanessa an appreciative nod as she examines the loop and undoes it again, curling the ends in different angles this time. “He’s a piece of work but there’s a lot at stake.”

Vanessa inspects the rope curiously. “What’s this one?”

“Bowline.” Charity reaches over and tugs the end tightly, hooking her fingers around the loop in the end.

Nodding Vanessa loosens it until she can pull it out. “You just not gonna tell me, then?”

Charity shrugs. “Do you really want to know?” She shakes her head at Vanessa’s pathetic attempt at the knot, gesturing for her to go back a step.

Sighing, Vanessa untangles the mess while she holds out her hand for a piece of the orange. “Why wouldn’t I want to know?”

Charity nods at the tie and starts securing another knot after handing her the whole orange. “Butterfly.” She indicates to the rope with a tilt of her head. “I dunno,” she continues. “Maybe I don’t want to give you a reason t’change your mind.” Charity says with a passive roll of her eyes, but somehow Vanessa manages to catch the truth behind her words and stops what she’s doing with the rope, dropping it to her lap.

“Charity…”

She doesn’t get a chance to speak, though, because Charity’s snatched the rope from her thighs. “First go.” She holds the knot up to inspect, impressed. “Try this one, see if you can do it better than the Spanish.” The piece of rope isn’t long enough and even Charity struggles with it for a moment, the harsh material of the line dragging roughly against her fingers, but she manages after a few tries and hands it to Vanessa smugly. “I’ll give you my hat if you do.”

Vanessa accepts the challenge determinedly, eyeing the loops and curves carefully. “Change my mind about staying?” She asks, muffled around the tongue poking out between her teeth in concentration. She feels Charity nod beside her. “I won’t.”

Charity doesn’t say anything for a while, just keeps her eyes on Vanessa’s hands and flicks orange peel behind her, into the sea below. When she does finally speak up, however, her voice comes out low, softer than Vanessa’s ever heard it. “Ness,” she says, drawing the other woman’s attention up to her. “If you’re really sure about staying here, then you have to let me keep you safe.”

Her words, mixed with the tone of her voice, are disarming, and any fight that may have been ready to come from Vanessa, dissolves in an instant. “I can look after-”

Charity shakes her head suddenly. “Maybe back there, maybe with you dad, but this is a whole new game.” She reaches out pleadingly, taking Vanessa’s hand in her own. “This is my world an’ you don’t get a second chance ‘ere, once it’s gone, so are you.” Vanessa feels Charity’s thumb stroke the back of her own slowly, her eyes wide, begging her to understand. “Please, just let me?”

Her mind wanders back to her conversation with Paddy earlier and the realisation she’d come to. Defying Frank had been the most reckless thing she’s ever done in her life, bar giving birth to a child out of wedlock, and she doesn’t think she could look after herself out here, in _Charity’s world,_ where killing is almost second nature. But she’s not incompetent, she’s not stupid and she’s certainly not incapable of at least attempting to fend off an attacker if she needs to, she thinks.

It’s the desperation in Charity’s face that makes her nod and agree in the end, tightening her grip on the other woman’s hand, trying her best to reassure her that she won’t push if it’s what Charity wants.

Blowing out a relived breath, Charity smiles at her gently and they fall into another quiet silence, Vanessa picking up the rope and attempting the task again.

After a moment, Charity relents, scoffing as she pulls the rope away from her and throws it backwards over their heads, hearing it hit the water with a pathetic splash. “Let’s hope you’re better with a sword than you are with knots.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've actually got all these chapters written up to a point where I'm happy with them but for some reason I feel like I need to reread and rewrite parts before I upload, just in case, so I'm going to try and aim to post two chapters a day if can. I'll probably regret saying that later...

“I can finish up.” Paddy offers solemnly. His face is pale and moves with his eyes downcast as he folds the sheet over the man’s head. The infection had become too much for his failing body to handle and he’d passed away before Paddy and Vanessa could get to him, alerted to his death by Bob, who’d found him while mopping the floor.

“What was his name?” Vanessa asks, staring at her blank reflection in the faded mirror that Paddy’s pinned to the wall of the room. She rinses off her hands in the cold water and wipes them down on the front of her shirt, leaving a stark trail of diluted blood in their wake.

Paddy closes the door behind him and walks over to his bed where he slumps down heavily, silently. “I don’t know.” He says, rubbing tiredly at his sweaty, flushed face. “He was from one of the trade ships.” He explains, bringing his eyes up to meet Vanessa’s. “We found him in the water and the captain ordered to bring him aboard.”

“Why would she do that?” Vanessa asks with a deep frown. She moves over to a small chest at the end of her bed, Charity had had Bob fetch it for her, just a small collection of her own clothes that she’s gifted to Vanessa.

Paddy smiles sadly. “She’s good like that, our captain. Doesn’t leave anyone behind, even if they’re not one of us.”

Vanessa feels herself smiling before she even realises her lips are moving. The knowledge that Charity had saved her, too, taken her away from that world she hated so much, beats heavily through her brain.  She’s a better person than people give her credit. But the happiness she feels is short lived, because Paddy quickly stands, muttering about the body below deck that he needs to get rid of before it starts to smell and Vanessa finds herself gripping to the sheet on her bed, her fists balled around the fabric as her eyes begin to sting with tears.

Paddy doesn’t look back, leaving her alone in the quiet, empty room. She swipes angrily at her face, streaking salty tears across her cheeks. For all of the experience she’d had, working with her mum, she’d never had to deal with death, not when the patient had relied on her to keep them safe.

She presses the heels of her palms hard into her eyes, seeing white sparks erupt behind her eyelids and lets out a disgruntled sigh. Vanessa isn’t sure she can cope with the rising feeling of emptiness, a heavy pain of nothingness pressing down on her chest as flashes of the man’s lifeless eyes stare up at her, milky white where once had been deep brown.  

She gulps down a wrecked sob before it can leak out into the air, gritting her teeth to keep it trapped inside.

Vanessa doesn’t realise she’s left her room until the freezing air smacks into her warm skin, biting at her exposed arms and face as she hurries her way along the top deck. Her legs carry her forwards subconsciously, leading her towards the steps up to the helm where she can hear quiet singing in time with a tinny sound, the source of the music unknown. It echoes through the night air, carried on the wind, making it appear distant, as though it’s flowing in from a faraway island.

Charity’s stood at the rudder, staring off across the sea despite the visibility being next to nothing. There’s a heavy fog looming thickly on the surface of the water, the front of the ship cutting through it easily. She’s got a clay pipe lodged between the corners of her lips, a deep amber glow crackles before a thick plume of smoke rises into the air.

Vanessa notes the sweet scent as its blown towards her by the light breeze but frowns as she comes to a stop at the top of the steps, the captain oblivious to her presence. It’s the same floral fragrance she always smells when Charity steps within her own space, fresh tobacco, she realises, but its stronger now, tangier. “Didn’t know you smoked.” She speaks up quietly, crossing her arms with a disapproving grimace.

Charity jumps, the pipe falling from her mouth and she fumbles to catch it. “Bloody hell, Ness.” She hisses, sucking the side of her thumb into her mouth to sooth the burn, slamming the lid of the music box closed quickly.

Vanessa doesn’t say anything, instead she wanders closer, snatching the bottle of rum up off the ledge from where it’s sat beside the small wooden box. She gulps down a hearty amount of the alcohol, feeling it burn at her throat. It settles in her empty stomach, easing up some of the ache in her chest, but it does nothing for the cold set deeply into her bones, not yet, she thinks. She takes another long swig, her face twisting with distaste.

Charity seems to notice her red and blotchy eyes then, doing a double take of Vanessa’s face. She makes quick work of tying up the wheel, a knot Vanessa recognises as one Charity had shown her the other day, and comes to stand close in front of her, hands reaching up to cup her cheeks as Vanessa feels a fresh wave of tears begin to fall at the concern she sees in Charity’s eyes. “What’s wrong?” She asks sharply. “Has someone hurt you?”

The speed in which Charity’s face transforms from concern to pure rage startles Vanessa into stepping back, her hips bumping into the ledge and it’s all she can do to shake her head dumbly. “No, no…” She croaks out, lifting her hands to Charity’s to tangle their fingers together, hoping it reassures the other woman enough that she doesn’t run off on a murder spree around the ship. “Nothing like that.” She shakes her head softly, a sad smile tugging at her bottom lip. She hoists herself up onto the ledge and to her surprise, Charity steps between her thighs without a second thought, bringing her hands back up to her face.

“What’s happened, Ness?” It takes both of them by surprise, the wrecked sob that claws its way up from Vanessa lungs, breaking through the freezing night air in a white cloud of steam that dissipates as fast as it appears. Her whole body gives out, crumbling under the weight of the night, and she drops into Charity’s arms, slumping against her front as she cries into the crook of her neck. Charity hesitates a moment, a second that’s barely noticeable, before she drops her hands from Vanessa’s cheeks and brings them round to wrap tightly against her back, holding her as close as she can.

Vanessa feels soft hushes of comfort whispered into the side of her head, warm breath ghosting through her hair and after a while, she feels her sobs beginning to calm to a slight sniffle here and there. Charity pulls back when she thinks the worst is over, stepping out form between Vanessa’s legs and shivers as the cold hits her. She waits patiently, watching Vanessa chug a bit more of the rum, swiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. Groaning at the burn of alcohol, she looks up to meet Charity’s concerned eyes, deep green flickers across her face. “He died,” she starts, dropping her own eyes to her hands. “The man Paddy and me were try t-...”

Vanessa could swear she sees Charity’s shoulders slump in relief, the scowl dipping her brow into a frown relaxes and her eyes soften. “Ness…” she says softly, reaching out to take the bottle from her. “This happens. A lot, actually.” Her words make Vanessa frown because it almost sounds as if Charity’s about to dismiss her feelings, brush them off like she’s an over reacting mess of emotions, something she’d grown used to after the birth of her son, when her father had ridiculed her with ease, but Charity continues on despite Vanessa’s internal battle. “An’ it never gets easier, still hurts as much as the first time.” Charity fiddles uncomfortably with the sextant holding the corner of the map down against the wind. Relief eases into her gut, calming the rise of panic that had started up when Charity had begun to speak, because she’s oddly comforting with her hard edges and straightforwardness, she doesn’t beat around the bush when she has something to say and she doesn’t try and simplify things to spare Vanessa’s feelings. “But,” She says with purpose, looking straight into Vanessa’s soul as she speaks. “You’ll learn to deal with it, jus’ like the rest of us ‘ave. An’ if you need a little bit more, well, you know where I am.” Charity says, shrugging as though it’s no big deal, but Vanessa can hear the promise in her words, despite her frank but unwavering empathy and she’s handed the bottle of rum. “Jus’ be careful with that.”

Vanessa nods appreciatively but doesn’t take another drink from the bottle, setting it down beside the map. She sits quietly for a while, observing Charity as she moves back over to the wheel and unties the rope, she moves between the compass and the sextant and then to the map again, scratching markings down on the fading and crumpled paper. Vanessa likes to consider she understands what Charity’s doing, but the process goes way over her head and instead, she finds herself content enough just to observe ignorantly.

Despite the gruelling turn of events of the past couple of hours, Vanessa’s never felt as content and safe as she does when she’s with Charity, even now, while she works and doesn’t pay her any mind, and the temperature drops substantially, the ice around her heart melts and the worry flows away with it.

“Do you ever sleep?” Vanessa finds herself asking after a few minutes pass.

Charity peers inquisitively up through her eyelashes, bowed over the map mid scribble. “When I can.” She says, putting the pencil down to give Vanessa her full attention. “Cain usually takes over before dawn so I can have a few hours.”

Vanessa doesn’t mention the fact that she knows Charity’s habitually up and about not too long after the sun rises, instead choosing to hop down off the ledge to stand just behind her. “How’s your back holding up, grandma?”

“Cheeky mare.” Charity lets out a light snicker, turning to face Vanessa who can’t contain the grin the sound causes. “You offering to help me out?” She teases, winking over a smug smirk. “Gonna give me a back rub?” Eyebrows wriggling eagerly, she takes an assertive step closer.

But Vanessa rolls her eyes and shoves Charity away. “You’re incorrigible.” Their laughter mixes between them and Vanessa thinks she’s never felt so _right_ in her life.

“C’mere.” Charity says when she sobers somewhat and extends her hand out through the air between them, beckoning Vanessa to step closer. She pulls her in tight until she can manoeuvre her in front of the rudder, and Vanessa feels Charity’s front fit snuggly against her back, hands tangling together to reach up to the grips.

The resulting proximity leaves Vanessa almost breathless as a strong wave of spiced alcohol and the familiar, almost floral scent of the tobacco, drowns her senses in a blissful euphoria and she has to tug her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down hard to keep in a whimper.

Charity leaves Vanessa’s hands in place while her own drop to the spokes, keeping the wheel steady when it jerks in their hands under the force of the sails. Vanessa feels the tug against her own grip, feels the stemming burn between her shoulder blades but holds her ground despite the ache. “Okay, I won’t laugh anymore.” She says, about to pull away when Charity steps closer, keeping her in position.

She makes a tutting sound in Vanessa’s ear, her hot breath ghosting across her neck and a resulting burst of goose bumps erupts along the section of exposed neck. “You gotta keep a hold ‘til I tie it up or we’ll end up god knows where.” Charity makes a show of dragging her hands slowly away from the wheel, pulling her hands along the side of Vanessa’s ribs and down to her hips where she stops to squeeze the skin gently through her shirt.

“ _Charity_ …” Vanessa moans, stomping her foot impatiently and Charity blows out a chuckle, slowly tying the knot, staring Vanessa down as she does so. Vanessa almost leaps away when Charity tightens the rope and grins up at her. She ignores the teasing wiggle of Charity’s eyebrows and rounds on the bottle of rum, trying to hide her own smile behind the neck of the bottle as she sips at it slowly. “Was that music I heard before?” She asks once she’s handed the bottle back over to Charity, the ache in her chest long forgotten.

The reaction is immediate, the way she steels her features away, eyes hardening and her lips pursing into a thin, hard line, Charity’s shoulders square defensively, as if ready to fight Vanessa if the situation so calls for it, her fight or flight instinct rearing its head through her obvious anxiety. “Yeah.” Charity bites.

“It was lovely.” Vanessa says tentatively, trying to keep her heart rate calm as though if Charity were to hear the sound of it thudding against her rib cage she’d snap. Charity scoffs bitterly but doesn’t make to say anything and so, sensing the subject being a touchy one, Vanessa decides against speaking, too.

For a long excruciating moment, all either woman can do is stare, warm green eyes turning as unfriendly and cold as the sea beneath the Merciless. Vanessa recognises the look in her eyes, having only seen it once before. It’s an echo from a week before, shadows of anger she’d seen on Charity’s face when she’d come toe to toe with Frank the night they’d left together. It’s a haunted look that slips through the guise and pretence that Charity has so expertly managed to hide herself behind.

It’s not until Charity’s eyes flicker over to the silent music box that Vanessa realises she hasn’t broken her, but still, the silence continues to stretch out between them with an icier chill than the one that’s carried in off the sea.

She’s about to turn around and make her way back to her shared room when a hand catches hers at the top of the steps. The skin of Charity’s palm is warm and soft, unexpectedly so, Vanessa thinks, considering the amount of hard labour that Charity puts herself through, and suddenly her cold and vicious demeanour vanishes.

“Charity, it’s-”

Vanessa ready to tell her it’s okay, that she doesn’t need to force anything, not if she doesn’t want to, but Charity steps closer, ducking her head reservedly. “It’s my daughter’s.”

Vanessa immediately finds herself with an inability to speak, her mouth hanging slightly agape. Her breath comes out on misty clouds of white, chased away by the wind that fills her lungs with prickling cold. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, she knows this because Charity isn’t just _Charity,_ not to others, anyway, but The Widow, Lady Tate. She’s been married three times, of course she’ll have had a child with one of those men, it’s to be expected. However, despite the knowledge she can logically link to the woman before her, the surprise Charity’s admission brings is almost like a physical blow to Vanessa’s gut that sends aftershocks of confusion and surprise to her brain.

Charity seems to realise the impact her words have had, stunting Vanessa into speechlessness. “The music box, it’s my daughter’s.” She repeats but Vanessa thinks it’s more for her own sake, confirmation for herself, that she’s spilling information out to a woman she’s known for a matter of days and not talking to her subconscious. “I... erm, well yeah, I ‘ave a kid.” Vanessa nods her understanding dumbly, her mouth finally closing as she wills herself to step back towards where Charity is leaning against the rudder. “Four kids, actually.”

“Four kids.” Vanessa echoes Charity, allowing the captains hand to grip a little bit tighter to her own, feeling the fear ripple through the connection.

Charity seems relieved that Vanessa doesn’t pull away at the admission, staying quiet instead. “I gave it to her when she was born, was the only thing I owned at the time.” The anger and fear have all but drained from her face, but her eyes still hold a hint of something distant, the vibrant green dulled somewhat by haunted memories. “Before he sent her away.”

Squeezing her hand gently, willing Charity to keep going, she ducks her head to meet her eyes, silently reassuring her as best she can.

Charity’s jaw sharpens like she’s gritting her back teeth, looking as though she’s in pain when her eyes finally flicker up to meet Vanessa’s. “I was only thirteen.” She says, barely above a whisper. “An’ they took her away from me.” A deep frown etches the smooth skin of her brow and she shakes her head.

Vanessa holds tight and drags her thumb back and forth gently over Charity’s knuckles, a barrage of thoughts spiralling through her own mind, flashes of Johnny, of her father, of Kirin…

“I was young and stupid an’ so was Cain, we couldn’t look after her. So, my dad kicked me out.” Charity mutters through clenched teeth.

“At _thirteen_?” Vanessa can’t help the horrified gasp that claws its way up her throat like acid. “Where did you go?” She purposefully shoves the bout of jealousy that rises at the mention of Cain and their joint past, locking it away in a chest to toss, because none of that is important, not now when Charity is baring every inch of herself for Vanessa to see.

Shrugging almost indifferently, Charity seems to steel herself again, face hardening. “Bounced around some family, ended up in a few brothels after that, though.” She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “Some bloke out the navy found me about six months in, bought me, took me to live in a big fancy house, an’ at first, I felt wanted until he started inviting other people round, soldiers and tha’.” Vanessa has to bite her tongue as a burning hot rage begins to tingle from the tips of her fingers and up behind her eyes. Charity must see something flicker across Vanessa’s face, concern and anger towards these men mistaken for something else, something Charity _really_ doesn’t like. “Don’t look at me like tha’.” She snaps, snatching her hand away from Vanessa’s gentle hold.

“Like what?” She says, keeping her voice calm and level.

Charity spins away, balling her fists tight enough that her knuckles turn a painful white and she brings them down hard on the ledge making Vanessa flinch. “Like I’m pathetic and broken, or somethin’.”

“I don-”

“Give over, Vanessa.” She grits out harshly, running her fingers through her hair. “I know what pity looks like.”

Vanessa pulls in a calming breath before she steps forwards, a foot or so behind Charity. “I don’t pity you.” She starts but pushes on despite the humourless laugh that Charity barks out. “Charity, I don’t. I think you’re amazing, and brave and _so_ unbelievably strong.” But all she receives in response is a disbelieving scoff. “You were a child and you survived. You’re a survivor.”

Turning slowly, hesitantly, Charity finally comes back to face Vanessa, eyes glassy but a flicker of life is shining somewhere in the deep jade of her irises again. “I don’t feel like a survivor, Ness.”

“You _are_.” Vanessa says with so much surety and conviction in her tone that the last of Charity’s walls crumble and flake away and she slumps forward, her body collapsing against Vanessa’s in defeat. “You are incredible but it’s okay not to be okay, Charity. You don’t ever have to pretend you’re okay with me.”

A wrecked sob shakes Charity’s body violently and she clings to Vanessa with desperation, the other woman holding her up with every ounce of strength she can summon. “I had his child.” Its barely audible, but where Charity’s face is burrowed into the crook of Vanessa’s neck makes it easy to catch.

“Oh, Charity.” Vanessa sighs out, feeling her heart fracture in her chest and it’s all she can do not to drop under the weight of her and keep her standing, keep her safe. But when her strength begins to wane, she gently pushes at Charity’s shoulder and leads her to the farthest corner of the stern and helps her into a sitting position on the ground.

It’s a little while until she speaks up again, choosing instead to pour the rum down her throat, handing Vanessa the bottle every now and then when the burn in her throat becomes too much. “I got away after that, he didn’t know I was pregnant, did he? So, I gave the kid to this woman who helped an’ then I left again.” Vanessa’s relieved when Charity takes her hand, speaking with a calmer voice as her tears subside. “Nicked his ship an everythin’.” She waves her hand, gesturing to the Merciless. “Seemed only fair, since he’d already branded me.” She flashes her wrist where the scorch mark of her scar glares up at Vanessa. “Was no point trying to avoid it. What else could I do?”

“Did you ever see them again?” Vanessa speaks softly, dropping her head back to the wood with a light thump and she turns to face Charity.

With tired eyes, Charity mirrors her position and gives her a sad smile. “Yeah, Debbie, my first, she found me when she was twelve.” She explains. “Nearly thirty now, and still as feisty as ever.”

Vanessa laughs whole heartedly, her heart coming back together at the love she sees in Charity’s eyes as she speaks. “Just like her mother.” She teases gently but Charity shakes her head.

“She’s a better woman than I’ll ever be.” She says with clouded honesty. “She’s got two kids of her own now, an all. Looks after my youngest, Moses, when I’m not there.” Vanessa can only watch Charity speak, she doesn’t want to disrupt her flow of thoughts as she voices them. “He’s nearly four. Noah’s grown up, god knows what he’s off doing, last I ‘eard he was with Tate’s son, he’s an okay boy, considering who is dad is.” Charity’s face twists when she swallows too much rum and a dry coughing wheeze breaks the quiet between them. “I’m not the best mum, I’m not always around, didn’t make any good decisions but I do love them, all of them, more than life itself.”

Vanessa finds herself thinking back to a conversation they’d had a few days ago when Charity had claimed she wasn’t scared of dying. She thinks now, that maybe while she’d been telling the truth at the time, if she were to ask again now, the answer may be different. There’s something different about this version of Charity than the one she thought she knew better than most. This Charity is softer, less cocky, and more brokenly open somehow. _This_. She thinks, is the _real_ Charity.

“Ryan, he’s with the old woman I was telling you about, the one in Tortuga?” Vanessa nods her understanding but doesn’t say anything. “I bought them the house an’ all the land around it when I managed to save up enough after paying this lot.” Vanessa drops her head to Charity’s shoulder, content with listening to the sound of her voice alone. “It’s the least I could do.”

Vanessa can’t feel the cold anymore and the late hour is steadily on its way to early morning, a fine streak of light blue highlighting the line of the horizon. The mixture of alcohol and Charity’s body pressed against her own is keeping her bones warm and she’s almost certain she could stay here until the sun was high in the sky, as long as the captain is by her side.

“Y’know.” Charity whispers after a while. “A think they’d like you.”

“Really?” Vanessa can’t help the bright smile she feels tugging at the corners of her lips, wide enough to show her teeth. Charity nods surely, her own smile forming as she slips her hand out of Vanessa’s in favour of wrapping her arm around her shoulders to pull her tighter into her side.

The two women lapse into content silence, fingers trailing over chilled skin and their breaths mingling in the air between them. Vanessa finds herself staring up at the stars that had been previously obscured by the fog, even the weather seems lighter now and even the notion that somehow Charity’s mood could be linked to the natural elements doesn’t seem completely crazy to her, not in this peaceful moment they’ve found themselves tucked away in.

Between them, they finish the bottle of rum after a few long minutes, the alcohol vibrating through their systems with blissful vigour. Its why, when Charity climbs to her feet on unsteady legs, Vanessa doesn’t question whether to follow her or not, her hand immediately coming to join Charity’s. “What are you doing?” Vanessa asks, trailing behind her.

“Fancy a dance?” She turns to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively over her shoulder at Vanessa, grinning as she flips the lid on the music box and the soft tinny sound that Vanessa had hear hours before begins to ring out.

Wordlessly, with her heart climbing precariously up her throat, Vanessa takes a gentle step forward and allows Charity to take her hand in her own, an exposed slither of skin flashing under the moon light that causes the branded ‘P’ to glow on her wrist once again.

The shock of warmth against Vanessa’s skin is instantly sobering, the fog of the alcohol clears from her mind and she can’t help but follow the pull in her chest towards Charity. It’s as though, just for the time being, they’re allowing the pain of their pasts to lift from their shoulders, revelling in something that is just there’s.

Just for now.

Charity’s hand pulls her closer and her other drops to Vanessa’s hip with a light touch and the warmth of her palm almost burns against Vanessa’s skin. “I think it was my mum’s.” Charity speaks quietly, their close proximity calling for the drop in volume. Vanessa lifts her hand to hold on to her shoulder as they begin to sway together in time with the lullaby. “I dunno, like, but I’ve just always had it so maybe it’s just something I’ve told myself.” She says it like it’s a half-hearted joke but somewhere behind her words Vanessa can just about see the insecurity hovering distantly behind her smile.

It tugs at an ache in her heart and she trails her hand slowly up and across Charity’s collarbone until she comes to a stop at the base of her neck. “I recognise the tune.” She says, letting Charity lead them in a slow dance within an invisible circle on the deck. There’s a flicker of a memory somewhere in her mind, a flash of colour and sky-blue eyes, but that’s all she can fathom, a spark and then it’s gone.

“It’s an old sailors’ song, I remember me dad telling me how it was sinful to listen to it.” She scoffs through her laughter and the resulting gentle shake of her shoulders pulls Vanessa closer to her until they’re flush chest to chest. “Never understood tha’ because it sounded everything but.” Charity drops her eyes down to meet Vanessa’s unspoken words sounding between them, tender and warm.

As Charity drops her backwards with a confident dip, Vanessa thinks that somehow those words have never been more apt, but her mind isn’t focussed on the music anymore, instead on the firm hands holding her close and the warmth against her body like an anchor keeping her tethered to reality. Charity, _her_ Charity, is so light and kind beneath the surface of a hurricane, a sweet melodic lullaby but yet, she’s so untouchable to the rest of the world, dangerous and destructive. She’s a fitting captain to the Merciless, Vanessa thinks almost ruefully, it adds to the mask she wears, the persona of a ruthless killer. But somehow, Vanessa has found her way into the eye of the storm, where it’s calm and quiet, protected.

When she comes back round to an upright position, her head spinning with dizzying thoughts, it’s all she can do to keep herself steady, dropping her forehead to Charity’s shoulder, her face burrowing into the crook of her neck. Charity’s scent is almost overwhelming this close, invading every inch of her being as it seeps into her blood stream. “I’m sorry.” It’s barely audible, hardly heard above the crash of waves and the whistle of wind through the sails but Vanessa feels the vibrations through Charity’s chest and looks up with a face of confusion. “I didn’t say it, before.” She pushes on, her eyes hard over Vanessa’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about the sailor who died, I’m sorry about your mother, and taking you away from your sister…” Her lips purse into a hard line and she nods to herself as if satisfied with her words.

Vanessa can’t stop a grin from splitting her face as she beams up at Charity with affection brimming from ear to ear. “You’re not good at apologies, are you?” She asks teasingly, keeping her tone light.

Shaking her head from side to side with mock seriousness, she leans down to Vanessa’s ear. “Never done it in me life.”

Vanessa lets out a low chuckle. “I believe you.” She pauses for a moment, granting herself a second just to appreciate Charity’s beauty as she smiles down at her with a kind regard. There’re faint age lines at the edges of Charity’s lips and eyes, crinkling slightly with each emotion that passes over her features and Vanessa has to physically fight off the urge to trail her fingers over them. “You don’t have to be sorry, y’know?” Charity’s frown is subtle, restrained confusion dipping her brows curiously and two more lines form at the top of her nose as it scrunches up. The sight has an unrecognisable feeling of something warm and fuzzy bounding in Vanessa’s stomach and it sends her melting into Charity like it’s the only thing her body can subconsciously do. “You’re the one who saved that sailor in the first place, Paddy told me.” She says, allowing her fingers to fork through the hair at the nape of Charity’s neck. “There was nothing else you could have done. An’ as for my mother, well,” Vanessa shrugs airily. “That was a long time ago.”

Charity relaxes, dropping Vanessa’s hand and for a moment she panics, thinking she’s maybe done the wrong thing teasing her, but Charity brings it down to mirror her other hand on Vanessa’s hip and slowly slides her palms round to meet at the base of her spine, tightening her hold so they’re pressed firmly together, from their chests to their thighs. “Do you miss her?”

It’s intimate, almost too much for Vanessa to form a coherent thought as her thumbs impulsively stroke across Charity’s cheekbones, cupping her face in her palms. “Sometimes.” Vanessa says, shrugging again. She wasn’t overly fond of her mother as she’d grown older, but she knows now that had mostly been due to her dad. “When I think of her when I was a kid, yeah.” She says, relishing in the feeling of Charity’s fingers pressing into the muscle of her back. “But she was never the same after she found out my dad had had Tracy with another woman. They stayed together for appearance sake, but she was bitter and a lot of her anger, she took out on me.” Charity doesn’t speak, staying quiet as she focuses on Vanessa’s voice. “When she died, Tracy moved in and I guess some of that anger must have been passed on to me ‘cause I never gave her the time of day for a while.”

“You two seem close now, though?” Charity rubs reassuring circles through her shirt, like she’s willing Vanessa to understand that she doesn’t need to speak if she doesn’t want to.

Nodding surely, she suddenly feels an empty twinge in her chest and her own face dips into a frown. “Yeah, we are, she’s my best friend.” Vanessa drops her eyes to a spot just below Charity’s chin, needing a moment of privacy as she speaks her thoughts aloud for the first time. “But she’s engaged now, no time for me.” She lets out a dry and spiteful laugh. “It sounds awful, I know, but I can’t stand listening to her talk about it anymore, about _him_.”

“Don’t like her bloke?”

Vanessa scoffs and gives a firm and sure shake of her head. “There’s just something not right about him, arrogance aside, I always felt like he was hiding something.”

Charity gives her a wry smile. “Isn’t it the same with most men?”

“I guess it just reminds me of what I don’t have.” She mutters grimly.

Charity ducks her head slightly, trying to find Vanessa’s eyes with her own. “Fancy yourself an arrogant bloke, too, do you, Ness?” She teases knowing fine well it’ll lighten Vanessa’s mood somewhat.

She finally looks up to meet Charity’s eyes and lets an involuntary smile tug at the corner of her lips. Charity observes her with a glint of intrigue stirring in with green and an eyebrow raises almost challengingly, both women feeling the air shift between them with whiplash inducing force. “Not at all.” Vanessa manages to say through a breathy whisper, inching forward along with the tug she feels from Charity’s arms, squeezing her sides decisively.

“Then what do you want?” Charity asks, her words coming out smooth and hot against Vanessa’s cheeks, sending a burning heat shivering down her spine that settles somewhere deep in her stomach. It’s all she can do not to whimper at the feeling, her breath escaping her lungs in erratic flurries of air, never mind forming an intelligible reply. “Ness…” It comes out as a plea, a request, and the greens of her eyes suddenly turn black as coal. Charity’s hand leaves the base of her spine coming up to cup the back of her neck and she hesitantly ducks her head, waiting for Vanessa to give any kind of encouraging response.

It’s when Charity’s dark eyes drop to her lips, Vanessa feeling a jolt of courage surge though her like a tsunami, that she closes the distance. Crashing their lips together in a searing kiss that leaves her breathless and disorientated, her world tilted like it’s begun to spin in a new direction. She clings to Charity breathlessly, a moan catches in her throat when she feels her tongue swipe across her bottom lip. Vanessa threads her fingers through Charity’s flowing hair, the need to feel her closer overwhelming every cell in her body and she parts her own lips in response to Charity’s pleading tongue, her hands tugging desperately at the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, yanking it from the top of her trousers.

Vanessa gasps as freezing air prickles at the newly exposed strip of skin at the base of her back, but Charity quickly brings her hands down to cover it, scorching hot against her own body, causing her eyes to roll back into her skull.

When the inevitable need for air becomes too much for either woman, however, they drag themselves apart, albeit reluctantly, Charity’s forehead coming to rest against Vanessa’s as their eyes bore into one another. Gasping down oxygen, Charity reaches up and cups her cheeks gently. “How about we head down there?” She says, her eyes flickering to the room below their feet, _Charity’s_ room.

Vanessa feels her cheeks burn red at the insinuation but doesn’t stop Charity as they begin to make their way over to the steps leading down to the deck below. “Wait,” she says, suddenly pulling her to a stop, reaching out to grab the music box of the ledge, just in case. “Who’ll sail?”

Shooting Vanessa with an incredulous look, she takes the box from her hand and Charity pulls her closer, walking backwards down the steps with eyes like a hurricane of desire. “Who _cares_ , Vanessa?”

It’s all the convincing she needs, an eager smile reaching her eyes, turning her own blue eyes dark as she stalks after Charity, giggling together as they hurry to her cabin.

Vanessa pounces on Charity the second the door slams shut, the sound reverberating around the room and she knows it’s probably loud enough to wake up the rest of the ship, but there isn’t a bone in her body that cares. Not when Charity’s hands come up to cradle her face, pulling her closer and harder into the searing kiss as they both fumble around the room until the back of Vanessa’s legs bump into the arm of the couch and Charity’s lifts her by her hips to sit.

Parting her legs, Vanessa makes room for Charity to step between them and lets out a low moan somewhere in her throat when she slides her palms up to the tops of her thighs, only stopping when they come to squeeze the exposed skin of Vanessa’s hips, kneading the flesh with purpose.

She can feel Charity smirk in response but ignores her smugness in favour of matching her insistent pace with her own mouth, kissing her desperately as Charity hitches a thigh up firmly between her own, pulling Vanessa down onto it by her hips.

Vanessa pulls away with a barely supressed whimper, tipping her head back as a flash of heat plummets low in her stomach and a throb beats dangerously between her legs. Charity doesn’t miss her chance, trailing wet kisses down the slope of Vanessa’s neck biting hard on the sensitive flesh just below her ear, quickly swiping her tongue over the bruise that forms there almost immediately. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” She husks hotly in Vanessa ear, causing a shudder to ripple through her body.

Somewhere up above them, the two women can vaguely make out the sound of wooden boards creaking as someone takes over at the helm pulling their attention away from one another for barely a second before Vanessa yanks roughly at Charity’s shirt, a loud tear bringing them both back to the task at hand. “Don’t you dare stop.” Vanessa manages to grit out, crashing their lips back together impatiently. She continues to pull at Charity’s shirt and manages to free the other woman from her long leather coat, the clothing thudding to the ground heavily.

If it wasn’t for the deep-seated craving swiftly building low inside Vanessa, she might have found it in herself to be embarrassed by the way her hips begin to rock against Charity’s thigh of their own accord, but her brain’s growing fuzzy because Charity’s kissing her just right and the scent of alcohol and smoke is invading every inch of her being. Vanessa hungrily sinks her fingers into the gaping rip at the top of Charity’s shirt and pulls hard enough to split the cotton in half, exposing the vast expanse of her torso, all smooth and pale skin.

Vanessa feels a deep blush burn up her neck and onto her cheeks as Charity pulls away slightly, arching against Vanessa’s hands as delicate fingers trail up her stomach exploratorily, stopping just below two uncovered breasts.

“Jesus, Vanessa.” Charity lets out a long, shaking sigh, her hand coming to the back of her head, fingers tangling almost painfully in Vanessa’s hair to keep her lips glued to her skin just above her right breast.

Vanessa feels heat pool between her thighs and her hips jerk suddenly at the sound of Charity’s voice. “Bed.” She grunts out against her skin, trailing her kisses lower and lower with each shuddering breath. “Now.” It’s all Vanessa can get out before her breath is pulled from her lungs through a surprised yelp as Charity’s hands hook around her thighs and pull her up around her waist, walking them both over to the bed beside the window effortlessly.

-

Vanessa’s lying on her stomach, one hand beneath her cheek on the pillow as her eyes flutter against the early morning sun – hot regardless of the hour, against her exposed body on top of the sheets – and her other hand is clutching Charity’s somewhere beside her ribs.

Charity’s naked body is sprawled across the majority of her bed, but her torso is draped lazily across Vanessa’s bare back, lips littering the space between her shoulder blades with feather light kisses. She feels goose bumps erupt across her skin at the contact and her heart wells in her chest with a shiver at the sheer intimacy of their positions. Her legs ache and her voice is horse and she’s sure that if she even attempted taking a few steps across the cold wood floor to retrieve any of her clothes, that she’d undoubtedly collapse under her own weight. But there’s no frustration in her mind as she mentally checks off every inch of her body that hurts with welcoming discomfort, flashes of the hours leading up to their current position flickering behind her steadily drooping eyes has her grinning sleepily.

Vanessa isn’t sure that she ever wants this moment to end, content to spend the rest of her life here with Charity. Honoured that she’s even had the opportunity to see this much of Charity, this part of her that she hides from the rest of the world, it all has her heart beating that little bit faster, and icy feeling inside her bones melts away, thawing in the sunlight.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Charity mumbles against her spine, the vibrations sending heat pooling back down between her legs with a satisfying throb.

Vanessa squeezes Charity’s hand but doesn’t move from her position. “Just that I’m glad to be here.” She says softly, letting her muscles relax before they inevitably have to leave the safety of the room and face the rest of the day.

Charity lets out a soft, blissful hum in response, shifting carefully up Vanessa until she settles beside her, framing her body with her own. She tosses an arm across Vanessa’s hip and pulls her closer, burying her face into the back of her neck and inhales.

They both settle into a quiet harmony, allowing themselves to feel the last minutes tick by before they have to get on with the day and for a moment, Vanessa thinks that maybe Charity’s fallen asleep when her arm loosens and her breathing evens out, but then a soft humming fills her ears, the tune she recognises as the lullaby from her daughter’s music box. “I have a son.” Vanessa doesn’t realise she’s even spoken the words aloud until Charity stop’s suddenly and her arm draws back.

She turns when Charity props her head up on the palm of her hand to look down at Vanessa with confusion etching a deep frown into her brow. “Ness…”

“Four years ago.” Vanessa says, cutting Charity off before she can speak, not wanting Charity to assume she’s telling her this because of what happened last night. “I met a man an’ it just sort of happened.” Her nose turns up at her own words, memories of Kirin kissing her, rough and uncaring, but Charity strokes the back of her forefinger over the wrinkles between Vanessa’s eyes and she relaxes somewhat. “He lied about a lot of things, but he tried. And when my dad found out, he was livid. Kept me in the house when I started showing because he didn’t want people finding out about his _bastard_ grandchild.” She’s crying, she can feel the sting in her eyes when she blinks and the hot tracks that flow into her hairline, but she doesn’t make a move to wipe them away, letting them stick.

Charity’s confusion only seems to grow, she can see the cogs turning behind her eyes, likely looking back through her own memories of a man or a child in her home the night she’d shown up and had taken Vanessa with her. When she comes up blank, she reaches out and wipes the corner of Vanessa’s eyes with her thumb, starring down at Vanessa with a cloud of concern masking her features. “What happened to the kid?”

Vanessa lets out a wrecked sob, face scrunching as she feels the pain echo through her, déjà vu as though she’s reliving the moment all over again. “He paid Kirin to take him away, leave and not come back…” Her voice shudders and breaks over each word and it’s all she can do to cling to Charity for dear life. Her arms wrap around Vanessa protectively, pulling her into her chest to shield her from the light streaming in through the stained windows. “I don’t know where they went or if he’s even alive…” She chews on her lower lip, tugging it between her teeth. “I gave him a necklace that my mum gave to me when I was born, I-”

Charity places her lips to the top of Vanessa’s head and hushes her gently when her voice cracks painfully, rocking her from side to side as Vanessa feels her gut turn sickly. She has to grit her teeth to keep herself from retching, however, and her hands tighten around Charity’s biceps, nails digging into her skin in a way she knows will be painful, but the other woman doesn’t complain. “I’d never ‘ave thought he’d be able to stoop so low…” She spits, surprising Vanessa with the amount of venom that lines her words. “His own _daughter_.”

Vanessa shakes her head, she doesn’t need Charity’s anger, not now. She’s felt enough of it over the past four years to fuel a lifetime. Right now, all she needs is Charity and those hands holding her like it’s just the two of them left in the world and those lips against her own. So, she reaches up, cupping Charity’s cheek and brings her face down until she can kiss her. “You saved me in more ways than you can begin to imagine, Charity.” She whispers out gently, hoping that her words are enough in that moment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not overly keen on this chapter but... here you go

Vanessa’s slouching along the bench that runs around the edge of the ship, back firmly to the sun, shielding her face from the breeze that’s being thrown against the Merciless as she fiddles with a string of rope that she’s found abandoned amongst a stack of netting. The simple plate of food that Marlon had handed over to her before the rest of the crew had left the ship to board the fleet of small rowing boats, has been left abandoned beside her while she flicks through pages of a small, pocket sized, rumpled book from Charity’s book case, each turn displays a detailed drawing of sailing knots, annotated with scribbles and notes. The handwriting doesn’t belong to Charity.

She’s not overly interested in the contents of the book, but it’s giving her something to do, something to pass the time while she waits for Charity to come back.

Earlier that morning, Vanessa had drifted off, still firmly wrapped within Charity’s arms as they rocked her soothingly back and forth. But when she’d woken, somehow still exhausted and every inch of her body throbbing with a dull ache, it was to Charity fully dressed, hunched over her desk while she stacked rolls of paper under her arm and placed her hat on her head with purpose. She’d apologised, her face twisting with her own disappointment of having to leave Vanessa behind, but she’d taken her hand and promised to be back soon.

And so, Vanessa’s been sat waiting for a little over three hours now, tying knot after knot in the rope and sipping on lukewarm water, laced with what she now knows to be rum. But despite the meagre attempt at keeping her mind occupied, Vanessa finds herself gripping the rope a little too tightly when her mind begins to wander back to the night before. Charity’s hands holding her steady against the earth as they danced long into the night, her lips on her skin and the burning heat beneath the surface, boiling through her body…  but the overwhelming feeling that has wrapped itself around Vanessa’s heart is what’s got her distracted.

Confessions followed by touches, a tropical storm imbedded in glassy eyes that observed her like no one has ever comprehended Vanessa in all her years of existing, and it all feels like so much to her now, it’s more than she’s ever felt capable of and it sits like butterflies in her stomach as her heart beats with an extra purpose.

This new understanding, the voice in her head mocks her with ‘ _epiphany’_ as though she should feel ridiculous for feeling like her worlds finally settling into some semblance of _rightness,_ she’s not just existing, anymore. But that’s what this is, she thinks, it’s _right_ , and perfect and she understands that now, after only spending a matter of days with this woman, Vanessa feels right to the world again.

Charity had held her and she, Charity. They’d clung to one another as if they’d both come to the same conclusion in a moment of fierce understanding for one another. Fingers had knit together, legs intertwined beneath thin bed sheets as every inch of their bodies lay pressed together, hot and sweaty with the rest of the world disappearing off a faraway edge behind them.

Never had Vanessa, in all her years, felt a connection to a person as strong as she feels now with Charity. She thinks that maybe, given the chance, she could have been happy with just her and Johnny.

She knows she would have been, but regardless of her anger towards her father for making her decision for her, that chance has blown away on the wind and she can only hope that Johnny and Kirin are happy somewhere.

For a long time, she’s had nothing, or what has felt like nothing for a while anyway. Tracy was there, and the love Vanessa has felt growing for her sister has left the pair of them inseparable, but that’s eclipsed by the feeling that wells and glows in her chest at the thought of Charity and the way her heart stutters and thumps in her chest out of pace with the rest of her whenever Charity is close. It’s a different type of love, she realises, something she’s never dreamed or imagined of ever having for another person. But as Vanessa sits, tying knots in manky rope in a strange attempt to impress her, she knows it’s real, its palpable and profoundly overwhelming in so many ways.

The sound of water splashing out of time with the monotony of the rushing waves finally yanks Vanessa from her thoughts and the poor attempt at a devil’s tongue knot, looking up to find one of the small boats steadily making its way over to the ship. She’s almost embarrassed how quickly a spike of hope jabs at her heart but as she notices Paddy’s bald head shining under the early afternoon sun, her heart sinks somewhat despondently and she drops the rope in her hands to the deck that lands with a pathetic thud and closes the book a little too roughly, shoving it down beside her forgotten plate.

“Been sent back to babysit, ‘ave you?” Vanessa calls, as she drops the rope ladder down to Paddy, only half joking. “Or just checking up t’make sure I’ve not taken off with the ship?”

Paddy chuckles as he flops over the railings and onto the deck unceremoniously, huffing out an exhausted breath, dabbing at the thick layer of sweat on his head with a scruffy handkerchief. “Don’t be silly.” He laughs breathlessly. “It takes at least four people to sail this thing.” Dropping down to the bench to gather himself with his hands on his knees, he looks up at her through squinting eyes against the sun. “The captain sent me to fetch you.”

There’s another spike of excitement in Vanessa’s chest and she jumps on her toes slightly, gripping her hands together in front of her. “That so?” She tries for indifference, pushing away the notion that she doesn’t care so much that Paddy’s been assigned as her babysitter, focussing more so on the fact that she gets to leave the abandoned Merciless like some dependent child left behind.

Paddy, nodding, stands and peers down warily at the rowing boat again like it’s the last thing on earth he wants to get in to. “Got that business at the town hall with Foster, an’ the captain says she want’s you there.”

Vanessa frowns, following Paddy down the side of the ship, careful not to stand on his fingers while trying to make sure he doesn’t get a good look up the bottom of her dress – something she’d decided to throw on that morning, a slight reminder of home, _Tracy_ mostly but free of the usual constraints of a corset. “But I thought Charity said it – it wasn’t safe?” She says, voice jerking out as she thuds onto the unstable deck of the boat.

Paddy gives the oars a once over before taking them into his hands, using them to push away from the ship before dipping them into the water. “Just… just until she could make sure there… weren’t any threats.” He grunts between each cycle that his arms rotate in long circles to push against the current willing the small boat out further towards the open sea. When he sees the confusion show on Vanessa’s face, he pulls in another breath to clarify. “Tortuga is the biggest port for our kind… in this part of the world, anyway.” He starts. “But it’s probably the least safe place, for us.”

“Why’s that?” She asks, frowning ever so slightly. “I would ‘ave thought that you’d be fine here, considering you’re all criminals.” Vanessa shrugs, yanking the oars from Paddy’s hands when he begins to grunt, irritation growing more prominent in the grinding of her own jaw by how long it’s taken them to cross the short distance between the beach and the ship.

Paddy almost collapses in his spot opposite her, relieved to have a moment to relax his arms. “You’d think that wouldn’t you?” He laughs to himself and pushes his glasses up his nose. Vanessa welcomes the dull ache that quickly begins to burn between her shoulder blades and her chest, focussing on Paddy and keeping her arms moving in time frees up some space in her head and the thoughts from earlier are pushed to the back of her mind for the time being. “We’ve got a lot of enemies, the British and pirates. You’ve heard the stories, an’ there’s a lot of people out there – the Tate’s included – that would love to be the ones to stop the notorious _Widow_ …” He scoffs out the last part as though even he finds the moniker ridiculous.

Understanding settles on Vanessa’s face as the bottom of the rowing boat scrapes against the shore, sand and shells dig into the soaked wood. “But now it’s safe, yeah?” She asks more out of curiosity than fear, following Paddy over the side and into the shallow water.

Paddy nods feverishly. “Oh, definitely… well, I suppose as safe as we can be, everyone here are little more than thieves and beggars while _she’s_ away.” He shrugs passively and leads Vanessa further up the beach, the gentle incline has them both huffing out deep breaths after the strenuous, yet short, journey on the boat, but it leaves little energy inside Vanessa to inquire further. She assumes that the crew’s safety in Tortuga has a lot to do with the absence of the _Tate’s_ and is likely the reason behind Charity’s visit to Graham instead. “But I think they fear the captain too much now to try anythin’.” But as an afterthought, turning to face Vanessa as he walks backwards up a set of stone steps, he adds, “or respect her…”

Tugging her lip between her teeth, Vanessa allows her fingers to reach up and trail across the tender skin of her neck where she knows deep purple bruises are plainly visible for everyone to see. It’s a strange thought to her at first, that only criminals and outlaws would be the ones able to see Charity for the woman she was, all powerful and commendable. But these people, these _pirates_ , weren’t blinded by the black and whites of societal norms, weren’t pinned down by the word of the crown, and weren’t terrorised by soldiers in to believing that every woman who stole a ship, did so with evil intensions. 

But as they walk further into the bustling port of Tortuga, Vanessa doesn’t find the notion so strange. To someone like Frank, or even perhaps Tracy, any pirate or outlaw was subhuman and insignificant in the eyes of the upper class, _Vanessa’s_ class. However, the narrow streets are packed with stalls and merchants, selling and buying and somewhere off in the distance, Vanessa’s sure she can hear the sound of music spilling from one of the buildings and it sets her mind at ease, reassures her that she’s not wrong about Charity, or Paddy and despite herself, Cain, too. It feels free, here, and the lack of concern for the decree of the king is almost exciting, setting a noticeable spring to each step she takes.

Women, scantily dressed in barely-there dresses and makeup piled on their faces, line the street outside of a particularly dingy looking building and it tugs something harsh in Vanessa’s heart for a second, reminded of the story Charity had told her the night before. How, once a long time ago, she’d been one of those women. It hurts only for a second before she remembers how far she’s come now; how brave and strong she’s been to get where she is now. Three husbands, and four children later.

Up ahead, two men begin to swing tight fists at one another, the situation growing heated enough for three more to join in before the crowd begin to roar and hurry past them to see what’s happening. Vanessa’s sure she hears a stall collapse under the weight of a falling body, wood splintering and cracking beneath them, but before they reach it, Paddy veers off down a narrow side street and she follows. “Happens a lot ‘ere.” He states indifferently, unaffected unlike Vanessa who can’t help but smile, an excited thrill rushing through her body.

She’s in a whole different world here, something so unlike her own that even the darkest place is exhilarating.

Clearing his throat nervously, Paddy eyes her to his right and shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “Mind me for overstepping… Vanessa.” He mutters, his cheeks taking on a deep red hue. “But erm, I, well, I noticed you,” Paddy lets out a nervous laugh, a high-pitched sound that she doesn’t think fits his frame but does just as equally. “You didn’t come back to the room last night.” He’s rubbing at his neck subconsciously, the same position where a scattering of bruises mark Vanessa’s own.

Vanessa frowns because Paddy isn’t asking, and she has an inkling that he knows exactly why she didn’t return to their shared quarters, if the flicker of his eyes down to her neck is anything to go by. “And?” She says stiffly, waiting for him to warn her away from Charity once again.

They step out into an open square where the noise and drone of pirates and sailors quietens, buffered by buildings. “Charity’s had her fair share of heart break.” He says distantly but Vanessa’s attention is drawn away from her surroundings with a sudden spike of curiosity and something she refuses to believe to be jealousy at Paddy’s vague insinuation. It’s the first time she’s ever heard Paddy use Charity’s name, always preferring to use her title and it makes Vanessa wonder, how close he really is to Charity, how far he’s willing to go to protect her. She’s so caught up in her own thought’s she misses most of what Paddy has to say. “…closer to his locker.”

Vanessa frowns, dropping her eyes to her feet as she follows him around the edge of the square, trying not to roll her eyes while Paddy speaks in unneeded riddles. “What now?” She asks, letting her inquisitiveness get the better of her, giving him the chance to carry on with whatever cautioning he’s about to give her.

“Davy Jones.” He whispers the name like blasphemy, his eyes turning a grave shade of pale blue as he inches closer to her. The hushed rush of the name sends a cold shudder through Vanessa’s blood, she’s heard stories and tales, who hasn’t? But the fear in his face has cause for more concern, because to Vanessa, it almost seems as though its personal, dread settling in across his features. “Cut his own heart out so he didn’t have to feel the pain of his own betrayal.”

“I’ve heard the stories.” Vanessa snaps, but her tone is smooth, gentle almost, willing him to go on while she fights the urge not to laugh at his ridiculous behaviour. She thinks back to when she was younger, her tutor back in England used to read her stories instead of teaching and the one about Davy Jones himself had somehow stuck with her. But that’s all it had been, a _story_ , she was far enough away from the life of a sailor that she’d never given it much more thought than that. But as she watches Paddy speak, the belief and wariness in his eyes settles with something dreadful in her gut.

Paddy looks down guiltily. “I’ve… I see the way she looks at you, an’ you her.” He gives her an apologetic smile, stopping at the foot of a wide set of stone steps that lead up to a great big building that doesn’t look as though it belongs in the town that they’ve found themselves in. “She’s reckless and dangerous, Vanessa, but god, when she loves someone, she’ll give her heart willingly.”

A cold sweat begins to prickle at the back of her neck at his words, the insinuation with each thought voiced between them. Her own feelings for Charity run deep in each and every vein in her body but having someone other than herself or Charity speak them aloud with such concern and forewarning, sets her on edge painfully.

“If you’re gonna go ahead with this…” He waves his hand half-heartedly in front of her as they turn to face one another. “Then don’t send her to him. Christ, she’s had enough of that from her kids an’ husbands, already.”

Her response is immediate, unwavering in every which way she can imagine. Vanessa’s jaw sets assuredly, more to her own feelings than to reassure Paddy, and she steps a foot closer to him. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” But she can’t help but wonder what Paddy is talking about when he say’s ‘her kids.’ She recalls Charity’s face as she talked about Noah, the pain that flickered through her eyes when she told Vanessa he was off with Tate’s son… Debby and how she’d had to give her up. But she doesn’t ask, it’s not her place, nor is it Paddy’s to discuss Charity’s situation behind her back.

_Tate_ … _Tate’s_ son… Lady _Tate_. The name keeps cropping up in conversation every now and then and it’s not hard for Vanessa to put two and two together. Whoever the Tate’s are, Charity’s got herself mixed up, their lives riddled and wound into something bigger than she can probably understand.

They stare one another down, ready to argue their own case before a sharp voice pulls them from their moment. “You two finished?”

Vanessa turns to find Charity standing at the top of the steps, Cain stood slightly off behind her scowling with that usual grimace on his face, but Vanessa can’t find the will power to tear her eyes away from the captain to pay him any attention. She lets a soft smile tug at the corners of her lips as she slowly climbs the steps, Paddy at her heels, to join Charity. “We are now, yeah.” Vanessa says gently, her heart thudding hard in her chest when Charity shoots her a quick wink.

“Good,” she says, pulling out a musket from the belt around her hips as she thrusts it towards Vanessa to take like she’s handing over a plate of food or a book in its simplicity. “Cause we’ve got business.”

It’s the first time that Vanessa feels anything close to fear while she’s been with Charity, but she feels it then, a rock forming somewhere in her throat, heavy like a lead cannon ball as she eyes the gun dangerously in Charity’s outstretched hand. She doesn’t want to touch it, doesn’t want anything to do with what holding it may imply. But Charity must see the fear on her face and subtly steps closer, her voice dropping an octave when she begins to speak reassuringly close to Vanessa’s ear.

“It’s just a precaution, I won’t let him give you a reason to use it.” Her free hand comes down to lace her fingers with Vanessa’s out of sight of the two men, and she gives a gentle squeeze. “Promise.” Charity’s simplicity in her words and the surety that flows with them is all the reassurance that Vanessa needs. “Now, how about we go weasel Foster into giving us Kim’s gold?”

-

Vanessa decides she loves seeing Charity this way, powerful and demanding, the same way she had been that afternoon she’d come to her home, in the midst of a face-off with Frank. It makes her throat dry and that same heat from last night falls heavily between her legs with a flutter. It reassures her that she’s not living in some dream world where one blink could find her returned to her room in that house above Port Royal, because this part of Charity is the one she knows from before she was taken away from her old life, freed from her prison.

Charity’s solid and consistent in front of her.

The ‘business’ Charity had been referring to had consisted of mostly the captain barking out threats until an alarmed, well-kept looking man with an uncomfortable sounding drawl to his voice – so out of place in a port such as Tortuga – hastily gave up a small leather purse, and after a quick check of its contents, Charity nodded, and with that, they’d left, whispering hurriedly to Cain about a ship and a ‘big pay out.’

It was quick and easy, almost too easy, but that hadn’t stopped the clatter of Vanessa’s heart as she’d stood beside Paddy, behind Cain and Charity, with her hand clutching the pistol in a terrified grip where it sat securely in the strap of her own belt.

Even now, wandering through the stalls of the market place, her heart doesn’t ease but she thinks that’s down to the adrenalin still thrumming through her body. The thought that _something_ could have happened, and the steps Charity would have taken to prevent that, thump with each beat in her chest.

As they walk up the street, the steady incline burning at the backs of Vanessa’s calves, she finds herself leaning into the warmth coming off of Charity’s arm because despite the sun beating down above them, there’s a light chill in the air, carried in from the sea on bad weather. The sky is dark, far away on the horizon, and she knows it’s at least a few days away from reaching the island, but the impending storm sets her on edge slightly. She’s not sure why, but the hairs on her arms stand up, pulled by the static in the air.

Charity snakes her fingers between Vanessa’s, somehow sensing the tension building in the woman beside her and gives her hand a squeeze. “You hungry?” She asks, inspecting a freshly baked loaf of bread that’s sitting atop a pile on one of the stalls.

“A bit.” Vanessa lies, her stomach had been growling at her all morning, her breakfast had been left forgotten on the ship.

Charity smiles knowingly down at Vanessa, swinging their hands between them as she tucks the bread under her arm and hands the man behind the stall a couple pieces of silver coins with a barely noticeable glare in his direction. Vanessa thinks Charity does it because she can, intimidating those around her for appearances sake rather than having to. The crowds seem to part effortlessly around them, parting in Charity’s wake as though she carries an air of terror and fear like an aura. She doesn’t need the glares or the bite in her words, her reputation proceeds her, but she does it anyway, with sharp looks and a face of stone, purely because she can. Vanessa knows even the foulest of criminals around them would bow down to her effortlessly. “Good, ‘cause I want to take you somewhere.”

“Oh?” She asks, tightening her hold on Charity’s hand, looking up to find piercing green eyes smiling down at her.

Charity hums out her response. “Think you’ll like it.”

The warmth that blooms in her chest is almost immediate and Vanessa knows that its plainly written across her face as her lips pull into a gentle smile. The heat blossoms up her marked neck and onto her cheeks as she leans further into Charity’s side. She follows her blindly through the crowds, watching Charity pick up food here and there, enough for her to hold comfortably in her one free arm until she has to hand Vanessa a bottle of something that looks like wine in a sea frosted bottle.

It’s mid-afternoon when they make it to a hill high up above the port, looking down across the harbour and the buildings bellow and Charity settles them beneath a tree. The smell of burning wood and the salty air mixes in with fresh grass and it eases Vanessa into a comfortable position against the bark of the tree. “You’ve been quiet.” Charity says attentively, plucking at the loaf of bread as she pops pieces into her mouth, feigning indifference.

She’s strewn across the grass, her body pressed against the length of Vanessa’s outstretched legs and the pair of them stare off towards the horizon. It’s so oddly domestic and comfortable that it almost feels like a dream to Vanessa, that the captain and the daughter of a British governor can find moments of piece like this in the world she’s found herself mixed up in. Vanessa isn’t at all disappointed by it either, this exciting and new life she’s gained along with Charity, it’s almost as though her heart’s been set at ease after so long of been mangled with pain and anger… “Jus’ tired.” Vanessa says, smiling down gently at Charity as she takes her hand in her own.

Charity hums out a response that doesn’t sound all that believing of Vanessa’s explanation and she props herself up on her elbow so she can level their gaze. “An’ here’s me thinkin’ I’d scared you off last night.”

There’s more insecurity to Charity’s voice than Vanessa expects, and it startles her for a moment. She turns to mirror Charity slightly, shifting her body to the side. “If you’d scared me off, d’you really think I’d have woken up in your bed this morning?” She asks, a small, teasing smirk plays at the edge of her mouth and she leans forward to catch Charity’s lips in a chased kiss. Vanessa smiles against the feeling of a gentle hum that vibrates against her mouth and pulls away an inch. “There’s nothing to be scared of, anyway.”

Charity falls back to the grass and lays her head in her hands. “There’s loads to be scared of.” She says, purposefully looking up through the branches of the tree rather than at Vanessa. “Those bloody red coats, dying, me…” she lists, tapping her foot to each word. “Paddy’s _snoring_.”

Despite the laughter that Vanessa finds escaping, she drops down slightly to lean against Charity, her arms crossed against her stomach as she looks up at her. “I’m not scared of you.”

Charity scoffs. “You should be.”

“Why?” She asks immediately, a frown sets deep between her brows.

Shrugging, Charity leans up, both elbows coming to settle into the ground by her side and she peers down at Vanessa. “I’m not safe to be around.” She states simply, just as she had the night before.

“That doesn’t scare me.” Vanessa says with her own bob of the shoulder. “We both had a lot to say last night, Charity.” She finds her own eyes dropping down to her hands shyly under the hard gaze of the other woman’s eyes. “I actually would have thought you’d have been scared off by me, crying an’ all that… half expected you to abandon ship when I started blubberin’ away.” She tries to keep her own insecurities and embarrassment from her voice with a half-hearted laugh, but she knows Charity can hear it as clear as day in the way her words stutter slightly and shake. It had been a relief to finally spill the pain from her body, like the breaking of a damn and Charity was the one to relive the pressure of the flood gates before she could completely crumble away.

With a gentleness that Vanessa hadn’t felt from the other woman, even after the previous night, Charity curls her forefinger into a hook and places it softly underneath Vanessa’s chin, raising her eyes to meet her own. All they do for a few silent moments is stare at one another as though the rest of the world has become extinct and Vanessa thinks that even if it had, she probably wouldn’t notice when those green eyes stare down at her with a storm of emotion swirling within them. The hurricane on the horizon holds nothing in comparison. “A good captain will always go down with her ship.” Charity whispers, words loaded heavily and though her voice is barely audible, Vanessa feels her breath ghost across her cheeks rather than hears the words herself.

Her heart gives a substantial thud in her chest that causes the bones of her ribcage to rattle but she doesn’t once pull her eyes away from Charity’s, doesn’t even blink, because she won’t allow herself to break this moment, whatever it is. “Charity…” She starts but she’s got no idea what she’s going to say or what she’s physically capable of saying. Her throats dry and tight with Charity’s confession rippling like waves at the forefront of her mind.

It sounds a lot like a promise to her untrained ears, a proposition that Vanessa knows would be impossible to turn down. And so, instead of voicing her response, Vanessa throws herself forwards in a desperate need to feel Charity’s body against her own.

-

They’re tangled up beneath Charity’s discarded jacket, the clothing doing very little to shield their naked bodies from the cool air that’s beginning to rush in off the sea but as Vanessa’s muscles twitch and spasm under the weight of Charity’s body, she barely notices the drop in temperature, too busy trying to calm her erratic breathing, chest rising and falling quickly.

Charity’s fingers are digging into Vanessa’s hips as she grips her tightly, holding her impossibly close as she buries her face deep into the crook of Vanessa’s neck. She’s panting just as hard as Vanessa is and with each puff of warm air that hits her neck, it sends a rush of electricity racing down her spine.

“Why’d you bring me with you?” Vanessa manages to somehow mutter out, though her voice sounds tired and weak, shaking with each rush of heat that continues to pool between her legs.

Charity lets out a tired breath of her own and flops down onto the grass beside Vanessa but not before she squeezes her hips gently, keeping the contact solid between them. “If you’re going to be sticking around, figured you should witness first-hand what we get up to.” Charity explains with a shrug and reaches out to her left to pick up her discarded hat, dropping it onto her face. Vanessa doesn’t think it’s to shield her eyes from the sun, but rather to hide the deep crimson blush that has worked its way up her neck and onto her cheeks. “It’s not all sea sickness and rum.” She says with a dry laugh.

But it’s not what Vanessa had meant and so she twists onto her side, propping herself up on a shaky elbow to peer down at Charity’s covered face. “No,” she starts gently, “I get that. I meant, why did you bring me with you the first time, when you came to see my dad… why-?”

“How could I not?” She replies simply, a smirk clear in her voice despite not being able to see it plastered to her face. “You’re quite easy on the eyes, buttercup.” Vanessa gasps sharply and swats at Charity’s arm playfully. There’s a muffled chuckle slipping out from beneath the hat and Vanessa finally reaches out to pull it away to find honest, green eyes, staring back up at her. “I’m not about to get all soppy on you, if that’s what you’re hoping for.” Charity rolls her eyes but there’s no malice behind the action as she speaks. “There’s not enough wine in me for that… but, I don’t know, I guess I just saw something in you and figured there’d be no harm in it.”

Vanessa knows she’s downplaying her words, trying her best to sound as passive as she can but her own body betrays her as Charity reaches out to stroke a finger down her forearm, coming to her hand where she laces their fingers together with a tight, needy squeeze.

“Cain thought I was being ridiculous, mind you. Said it was bad luck to have a woman on board.” She scoffs at the very idea.

Vanessa can’t help the bark of a laugh that splits her lips into a grin. “You got something you’ve been hiding from me?” She purposefully drops her eyes to the intersection of Charity’s legs and smirks, her eyebrow arching smugly.

“Give over.” Charity lets her own laughter mix with Vanessa’s as she turns to match her position. “I’m hardly lady like, though.” She steels her features into a soft smile and leans forward to place a kiss against the corner of Vanessa’s mouth. “You’re not sorry, are you?” she asks a moment later, a slight waver of worry working its way into her words.

“God no.” Vanessa says immediately, eyes widening. “It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” _You’re the best thing that’s happened to me,_ goes unspoken but its heard between them nonetheless and she punctuates her statement by popping Charity’s hat firmly on her own head, tilting it to the side and slightly across her eyes. “What do you think? Does the life of piracy suit me?”  

Charity’s head drops back as a loud laugh ripples its way up from her lungs and into the quiet air around them. “Definitely.” She manages to reply, and she reaches up to knock the front of the hat down with her finger tip, completely covering Vanessa’s eyes.

While Vanessa fumbles with the hat, Charity turns in search of her shirt and she throws it on over her head then collects Vanessa’s dress in her arms. “Where to now?” She asks slightly disappointed that the moment is clearly coming to an end.

Peering back over her shoulder and pulling her hair from the collar of her shirt, Charity allows an apprehensive frown to tug her brow down, the skin above her nose creasing ever so slightly. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

-

The further down the opposite side of the hill they get, Vanessa notices the tighter Charity’s frown becomes, her shoulders square like she’s ready for a fight and her steps grow slower, more apprehensive. It occurs to Vanessa then, that wherever they’re heading is enough to have Charity’s façade crumbling in a way she has yet to see and maybe Vanessa should be worried. Because, surely something with an impact like this, especially to Charity, should have her hand drawn to the musket still attached to her hip, but instead, she reaches for Charity’s hand, uncurling the fingers mangled in a fist so that she can thread her own between them.

She’s so invested in the captain that the small farm house goes unnoticed until they come to a stop right outside the front door. It’s shrouded in darkness, the sun set eclipsed by the tip of the hill as the rest of the sky turns to a deep indigo with scattered flecks of light beginning to blossom across it.

Vanessa’s sure that if she wasn’t so distracted by the woman beside her, she’d somehow find a way to compare the stars in the sky to the freckles and scars that paint Charity’s skin, but she _is_ too distracted because Charity isn’t moving. She’s stood frozen in front of the wooden door like she’s not sure how she’s gotten here or why.

So, hesitantly, Vanessa raises her hand in a fist, stopping a moment to allow Charity to stop her but she doesn’t and a second later, her knuckles knock gently against the door.

The sound echoes dully, and it seems to startle Charity out of her stupor, causing her shoulders to drop and the vice like grip she has on Vanessa’s hand loosens ever so slightly. It feels far longer than it probably is for a crack of light to burst through the open doorway and Vanessa isn’t sure what or who she’s expecting to find standing there, but the elderly woman dressed in a simple dress with her hair pulled up is definitely not what she imagined.

“Ms Dingle, you’ve finally returned.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did promise two chapters a day...

_“Ms Dingle, you’ve finally returned.”_

The stern, almost cold, expression on the woman’s face doesn’t match the teasing tone to her voice as she gives Charity a quick once over, apparently taking a moment to inspect her before she says anything else.

For her part, Charity manages to muster up a hard smile under the scrutiny of the woman in the doorway. “How are you, Irene?” She asks, shifting from foot to foot, subconsciously leaning into Vanessa’s side with a nervousness that Vanessa finds surprising Charity even possesses.  

The woman – Irene, Vanessa corrects herself, offers an indifferent hum at Charity’s question. “Stopping for supper? I’ve just stuck the kettle on.” She’s already walking away from them, leaving the door wide open for the two women to enter before Charity can even respond. “Shoes!” Irene calls back as an afterthought and Charity and Vanessa quickly remove the offending boots.

“ _Dingle_?” Vanessa mutters through a low whisper when Irene is out of earshot, unable to hide the amused curiosity from her voice. However, instead of responding, Charity rolls her eyes good naturedly and shoves past her, dragging her along behind.

Charity stops to close the door and mutters a quiet, “later,” but the faint red blush that tinges her cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by Vanessa, the colour bright against Charity’s pale skin.

It’s warm and cosy inside the farm house, with a low burning fire heating up a pot of tea and the smell of something sweet cooking fills the room. Flickering oil lamps cast the cramped space in a warm orange glow and Vanessa feels the sudden need to curl up on a plush looking chair in the far corner of the room where a basket of wool sits beside it. There’s only a couple of feet between where Charity and Vanessa hover in the doorway to where Irene is stood pulling out china and tableware from a cupboard on the other side of the room, but it’s nice, not too cramped to feel claustrophobic but cosy and inviting, instead. It’s a proper little home, something she hasn’t had the chance to see since leaving England all those months ago.

“He in?” Charity pipes up, wandering over to a small table where she pulls out a chair and plonks herself down unceremoniously.

Irene doesn’t look up as she replies, busying herself with a tin of homemade biscuits. “Checking up on the chickens,” she says, “shouldn’t be too long now.” Filling four cups up with steaming hot tea, Irene carries them over to the table and sets them down in front of them, glancing over at Vanessa for the first time. “She’s not kidnapped you, has she?” She jokes with a slight pitch of real concern, the words falling comfortably between them.

Vanessa smiles before it turns into a smirk when she looks between Charity and Irene. “Nah.” Laughing, Vanessa reaches out for her own cup and blows at the steam. “Charity’s letting me tag along.”

“That so?” Irene shoots Vanessa a knowing stare before she arches her brow in Charity’s direction. She suddenly remembers the bruises and, as inconspicuously as she dares, Vanessa brings a hand up against her neck in a vain attempt to hide the display. “Don’t let her lead you astray. Was always looking for trouble, this one.” She pops the lid off the biscuit tin and nudges it towards Vanessa.

Charity scoffs but doesn’t argue. “I didn’t go _looking_ for it.” She says instead.

Rolling her eyes, Irene points warningly at Charity’s cup. “That’ll go cold if you leave it much longer.” She dips her own biscuit into her tea before taking a small bite. “It’s not like you avoided it, either.” Irene shifts in her chair so that she’s facing Vanessa fully. “She tell you about us?” When Vanessa nods softly, Irene continues. “Took her in for a few years when Ryan was just a baby, was renting a spot near Port Royal before she ran off with that cousin of hers and stole that flaming ship.”

“ _Borrowed_.” Charity cuts in abruptly.

“You planning on giving it back anytime soon?” Irene shoots back perceptively as she leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest, but Charity doesn’t reply, choosing instead to huff out an offended breath through her nose. “Thought not. Anyway, couple years later, she comes back with a stack of gold and says she’s only gone and bought out an old man and his home and we’re moving in.” If it weren’t for the twitch at the corner of Irene’s lips and an amused glaze over her eyes, Vanessa would have thought the woman sounded ungrateful, but Charity’s own features betray her in the same way and as impossible as it is, she can see parts of Charity in Irene now. It’s nice, she thinks, that despite everything that Charity’s been through, she’s had something good, solid and constant in her life in the form of Irene. “Trouble follows this one, but she’s all good at heart.”

Vanessa finds herself smiling warmly when Charity lets out another scoff and slumps down against the back of her seat. “Yeah, she is.” She finds herself speaking before she even realises the words are flowing but it’s worth it for the way Charity’s eyes soften when their eyes meet briefly, the green of her eyes turns warm and inviting.

“She’ll do anythin’ to keep that boy of hers safe, an’ all.” Irene says proudly over the top of her cup. “All of them.” She adds, but this time she sounds almost sad as she speaks. “You heard from your Noah?”

Charity stalls, sipping at her tea and it must burn because she winces before she places it down with a glare at the still steaming liquid. “Nope,” shrugging with contrived indifference, she turns to face the fire, hardening her stare. “Not been home for a while so…”

For a short period, Vanessa can only sit and watch, observing the two women as they interact as though barely a day has past.  It’s nice, seeing Charity like this, the version she sometimes allows to slip out when it’s just the two of them alone. She’s regular Charity now, not a captain, not a woman haunted by her past and it eases something in Vanessa, like a ripple of electricity has been diffused.

But Vanessa feels almost guilty that she’s witnessing such a private moment as the conversation takes a turn towards Charity’s eldest son.

Just as she’s about to excuse herself in favour of some air, the front door opens, and a young man walks in with dark hair down to his shoulders and a fine layer of dirt covering his face.

Charity immediately stands, the chair scraping loudly against the stone floor and the sound makes Ryan look up from where he’s toeing off his shoes beside their own. It takes a second until the shock wears off and a huge, toothy grin splits his face and he bounds across the room with a yelled, “ _Charity_!” And she catches him, wrapping her arms tightly around his frame before he can trip and fall.

“Hey, kid.” She whispers into the side of his head and both Irene and Vanessa avert their eyes to allow them a moment to themselves.

While Vanessa sips purposefully on her tea, Ryan pulls away to give his mother a once over, clearly trying to give his brain time to catch up with his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” He asks with a twinge of hope lacing his words.

Charity takes a step back and gestures for him to sit opposite her, beside Irene. “Had some business with Graham,” Charity starts, pushing the tin over to him with the same manner that Irene had with both Charity and Vanessa earlier when she notices a slight frown begin to set in his brow at her words. “Couldn’t not come visit while I was ‘ere now, could I?” Charity’s voice turns light as she speaks and it doesn’t fail to warm Vanessa’s heart, and Ryan’s apparently, as she looks up to meet his eyes for the first time since he’s returned home. “This is Vanessa.” Charity jumps in quickly, realising that she’s yet to introduce her to her eldest son. “My… my, erm, friend.” She settles on awkwardly but Ryan’s too excited to take much notice of her hesitation.

However, her words do open a whole chest of questions and feelings in Vanessa’s mind, some she’d rather not be thinking of right now. So, she tries her best to push them away and offers up a polite smile, one she hopes doesn’t convey too much worry as she gratefully, and with some surprise, accepts Ryan’s outstretched hand.

“Nice to meet you.” She says, returning the gentle squeeze she feels around her fingers.

“You too.” Ryan says and she notices the way his eyes crinkle at the sides the same way Charity’s do when she smiles. “Friends?” He asks almost smugly and both Charity and Vanessa follow the movement of his gaze down to Vanessa’s neck.

“I-” A burning hot heat fills her cheeks and she knows the involutory embarrassment is enough explanation without her having to give an actual reply.

“Blunt like his mother.” Irene says pointedly but offers Vanessa a wry smile. “Thought I’d taught him some manners.” She swats at his arm playfully.

Ryan, grinning from ear to ear, drops a piece of biscuit into his mouth still looking enjoyably smug at his spot-on observation. “Pirates aren’t polite.” He states matter of fact but that earns a harder, more purposeful slap to the arm as Irene turns on him quickly.

“ _You’re not a pirate_.” Both Charity and Irene say together.

“Might as well be.” Ryan mutters scornfully. Vanessa chooses to stay quiet, not wanting to add to the tension that’s rapidly rising in the small room. Did someone add a log to the fire? “You used to tell me all those stories when I was little, an’ you promised me you’d let me come with you.”

Vanessa feels the effects Ryan’s words have on Charity the second they leave his mouth. The woman beside her bristles and her whole body tenses, but it’s not the same way Vanessa’s used to seeing it do so, there’s no fight in her, no threat… this is _fear_ , she realises, guilt and sorrow and she’s sure Charity’s about to bolt out of the nearest window and never look back. Vanessa reaches out beneath the table and takes Charity’s hand in her own, almost surprised by how tightly the grip is returned. “I was just a kid myself when I told you those stories, Ryan.”

Ryan rolls his eyes like he’s heard this excuse too many times before but doesn’t bite.

“I didn’t know how dangerous it was ‘til it was too late, did I?” Charity explains all the while keeping Vanessa’s hand locked within her own. “I made a lot of promises I couldn’t keep back then, but I won’t make the same mistake now, okay?”

Ryan softens slightly, it’s subtle, but the hard frown between his brows eases and he finally looks up to meet Charity’s eyes. “It’s not right,” he drops a half-eaten biscuit to the table, crumbs scattering across the surface. “Not knowin’ if or when I get to see you again. It’s been _months_.”

Vanessa can practically feel the way Charity’s heart breaks in her chest and offers a reassuring brush of her thumb across her knuckles.

“Vanessa, love.” Irene breaks the stagnant silence that’s settled within the farm house with an almost stifling heat. “Wouldn’t mind giving me a hand checking over the chickens, would you? Only, I know he likes to rush back for his supper.”

Vanessa doesn’t need to be told twice, taking the obvious hint to leave the other two alone and she nods gently. Turning to give Charity a quick kiss to the cheek, she stands and follow Irene to the door, hurriedly throwing on their shoes before they disappear out into the dark.

-

She likes Irene, Ryan, too of course, because it feels like months since she’s been in the company of _regular_ people, someone who reminds her of home. Vanessa hadn’t realised she’d been missing Tracy until then, too caught up in the excitement and thrill of running away with a pirate to give much thought or time to anything else.

She finds Irene easy to get along with, too. She’s upfront about what she’s thinking and makes her feelings known plain and simple. So, while the four of them are making their way up over the hill and down towards the main town, Irene loops her arm through Vanessa’s while Charity and Ryan wander behind, laughing together as Charity no doubt recounts a story from one of her most recent adventures. The action makes Vanessa feel accepted, as though such a simple action can hold so much meaning behind it. This was Charity’s family after all, or part of it.

Cain has never once made her feel welcome, keeping his distance and his disdain obvious. Now, however, she feels her heart balloon behind her ribs, close to bursting. It’s enough for her to forget Charity’s small hesitation for a brief moment.

“You choose to come with her, then?” Irene says, keeping her eyes trained on the worn path beneath their feet.

Vanessa chances a quick glance over her shoulder, catching Charity’s eyes for a brief moment before she turns back. She lets out a hum of agreement, “didn’t have much to keep me in Port Royal.”

Irene gives her arm an understanding squeeze. “No family?”

“I did actually,” Vanessa says, and she can’t quit pin the feeling that spikes in her chest. “My dad and sister.” Irene doesn’t cut in, letting Vanessa take the chance to explain if she wants to. But that’s the thing, she suddenly realises, there’s nothing else to explain, nothing that she hasn’t already confessed to Charity, anyway. “They had their own lives, my sister’s getting married, my dad… well, I found out he was actually in debt to Charity.” She lets out an amused laugh, shaking her head at how ridiculous it all seems to her now, how far away it feels. “There wasn’t anything for me there.”

It’s the simple fact of the situation that spills out with certainty. Frank was probably going to end up locked up sooner or later, now that she thinks about it, and Tracy was moving on, making a life of her own, starting a family. And while Vanessa couldn’t be happier for her, she wasn’t about to let herself wallow in self-pity and god knows what else.

But here and now, with Charity, the crew, with Irene and Ryan, she’s happy. And for the first time in years, she feels like she’s actually living her own life again, not one mapped out for her by her father.

“She’ll keep you safe.” Irene speaks up, surprising Vanessa with the amount of conviction to her assertion. “Doesn’t matter how much trouble she gets herself into, she’ll do it, she’ll keep you safe.” Vanessa only smiles, however, because her mind is off wandering again, spiralling when Irene continues on. “She looks at you like she’s finally reached the ‘x’ on a map, y’know.”

It’s never something she enjoys much, talking about Charity behind her back like this, but she thinks now that it’s because usually people don’t have many nice things to say about her, or the idea of them together. It’s refreshing now, though, even if Irene disapproves of Charity’s lifestyle, that she’s still able to focus on the positive aspects of Charity, judge her character rather than her decisions.

And while she’s only known Charity for a matter of weeks, something she has to keep reminding herself, she can’t help but feel the same, like she’s found something in Charity or maybe Charity just brings something out in herself, a reason that had long lain dormant for years now, a reason to keep going. Vanessa doesn’t doubt that if she were to decide to go home, back to Tracy and Frank, that that feeling would still be there, and with a new lease of life, she’d carry on. But she doesn’t want to – leave Charity that is.

“I think you’re good for her, too. She needs something stable.” Irene’s still talking and Vanessa has to blink away the thoughts clouding her mind. “But is she good for you? Leaving your family, I mean… that’s, well, that’s not something easily done, Vanessa.”

It takes Vanessa a moment to find the right words, something close enough to what she really feels. “In a way,” she starts, mulling the words over before she continues. “In a way she saved me.” When she settles on them, she speaks with so much surety that she knows beyond anything else in the world that they’re true. “I was lost for a long time. Look at me, forty-three, unmarried, every decision controlled by my dad… Charity finding me,” she shakes her head because there are no words available to her in that moment that could ever come close to describing how grateful she is that Charity gave her an out of her old life. “She saved me.” Vanessa says again with a final nod of her head of offers up a reassuring smile to Irene.

“She’s been through a lot, you know…” Irene slows ever so slightly, its subtle but Vanessa matches her steps. “I know sometimes she can run hot and cold and she acts like she doesn’t care, but that’s just because she’s so used to people hurting her.” She listens carefully, that familiar bout of guilt rising like she shouldn’t be having this conversation, but Vanessa’s intrigued to understand how, a woman such as Irene, interprets the actions of the captain of the Merciless. “We thought when that Tate man came along, that she’d give up being a pirate… she did for a while, but he wasn’t a nice person. That goes for the two after him.”

“People say she killed them. That’s how she got the name, right?” Vanessa whispers, worried Charity might hear.

With a tight-lipped smile, Irene gives a slight shake of her head. “That’s something she should tell you herself.” It sounds ominous to Vanessa, as though there’s something else to Charity’s story, more than what Faith had told her all those weeks ago, more than what Charity had told her the night before… “What Ryan’s father did to her though, I think that had more of an impact on her then she likes to let on.”

_Obviously_ , Vanessa thinks, having already seen the habitually strong and put together woman break and crumble within her arms… What she’s been through, it would break anyone.

-

The tavern they find themselves in a few minutes later isn’t like the one back in Port Royal, that had been holy ground compared to where Vanessa is now, crammed onto a small, stained table with Ryan in the middle of the room while Charity and Irene fight their way through a thick crowd to grab their drinks. The ground floor was heaving with men and women, all fighting their way past one another while the balcony above them is no better. Vanessa’s worried the floor will collapse under the weight of people on it, some even choosing to sit along the railings for that little bit of extra space.

It’s filthy, the floor and tables coated in something wet and sticky that she can only hope is stale rum and wine, but she doesn’t dwell on it for long, worried she’ll come to another conclusion. Music from an old and out of tune piano can only just be heard over the loud shouting and laughter but not once does Vanessa feel the need, or the desire, to leave.

“So, how long have you been with my mum?” Ryan practically has to shout over the noise to be heard. “Charity, I mean.”

Vanessa turns to him, smiling. “Just a few weeks.” She shouts back, leaning across the table so that she can be heard.

“That’s nice,” he says, nodding with a tight-lipped smile. “So, she come back here ‘cause Kim’s headed for the hills or what?”

Shrugging, Vanessa eyes a scratch on the surface of the table, trailing her finger across the line. “I’m not sure.” She says. “I know she had some business with Graham Foster, though.”

“He works for Kim.” Ryan begins to explain, and Vanessa finds her attention falling back to him, enthralled by his words. “Mum calls him her henchman.”

“Irene?”

“Yeah.” They both glance over to the bar but both Charity and Irene have disappeared amongst the patrons. “Charity doesn’t get on with the Tate’s, see, not after Chris…” Ryan catches himself, realising that maybe this isn’t something he should be talking about and purses his lips quickly, regaining his train of thought. “That’s her first husband… Anyway, she only comes back when the Tate’s aren’t here, running the show.”

Vanessa’s mind is racing, pieces of a puzzle falling into place inside her head, a puzzle she knows would have been assembled much quicker if Charity had just explained yesterday on the ship. But she knows how difficult it is for Charity to talk about her past, especially the men who had used and ruined her. It makes sense to Vanessa now, however, why Charity had wanted to keep her on the ship, safe out of harms way. If Kim had been here in Tortuga, who could know what may have happened?

“At least she’s back now, though, eh?” Vanessa says, trying to lighten the mood.

Ryan nods but his eyes are wandering around the room until they settle just to the left of Vanessa, his attention drawing away from their conversation. She turns to see what has become apparently more interesting than their conversation, when her own eyes draw towards a blonde woman carrying a tray of empty bottles and glasses in one hand. “Friend of yours?” She asks, hoping she doesn’t sound as smug as she thinks she probably looks.

Clearing his throat, Ryan ducks his head to hide a faint blush. “That’s Dawn.”

“Pretty name.” Vanessa bows her own head trying to meet his eyes. “You like her?”

If it were possible, Vanessa thinks Ryan grows even redder in the face, but he finally looks up through the curtain of long hair framing his cheeks. “Yeah.”

“You two getting on?” Charity’s voice cuts through the commotion of the room effortlessly, dropping two bottles down onto the table.

Ryan grabs the grubby looking glasses from Irene and begins pouring the wine. “Let’s just say it’s a good job you came back when you did.” He winks teasingly at Vanessa drawing out a grin that shows her teeth.

“Oh, I can imagine.” Charity sits herself down beside Vanessa and grabs up her own glass. “Right pain, this one.” She’s teasing, joining in with Ryan’s game and while she knows Charity’s waiting for her to bite the bate, she can’t help the bubble of relief and happiness she feels. Knowing that while Irene and herself had left the mother and son to work out their issues, there was no tension left in the air between them, settles her into a comfortable ease as she slowly sips on her wine.

“Give over.” She huffs out with feigned annoyance and bumps Charity’s side with her own.

Ryan lets out a scoff at this, giving Charity a pointed look. “You’re one to talk,” turning to Irene, he waits for her to nod out her own agreement. “Vanessa’s definitely too good for you.”

“ _Excuse you.”_ Charity gasps, cocking her head to the side as an eyebrow rises in question. Smirking, Ryan raises his hands in a dismissive stance. “What happened to loyalty, eh?” Charity asks Vanessa with a roll of her eyes, but the hard expression softens when Vanessa continues to smile, enjoying the easy back and forth between Ryan and her. “Speaking of…” Charity trails off as she cranes her neck and begins to scan the tavern. “You seen Cain?” She lowers her voice so that only Vanessa can hear her.

“Not since this afternoon.” Vanessa supplies unhelpfully but allows her own eyes to wander until they stop up on the balcony where she spots Marlon and a man she recognises from the ship, Billy. She tilts her head purposefully and Charity follows. It’s not until now, that Vanessa realises that the crew of the Merciless are scattered around the tavern, mingling in with the rest of the patrons.

That seems to satisfy Charity enough, eyeing Marlon in a way that reassures her enough to assume that Cain will be somewhere close by.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa asks, despite the fact that Charity’s slumped down in her chair again, relaxing somewhat, the static of nerves flicker at the edges of her almost imperceptibly.

Charity shrugs, her face tightening into a steely expression. “It’s getting busy.” Her eyes flicker over to Irene and Ryan and then back to Vanessa. “He likes to cause trouble when he’s got enough rum in him, and I like to keep an eye out.”

Nodding her understanding, Vanessa can’t help but sit a little straighter, her mind flashing back to the night she’d first met Charity and the way Cain had destroyed a perfectly good table for no other reason than to cause a fight for his own entertainment. It’s almost reassuring that the butt of the musket on her hip digs into her skin slightly, reminding her that if it does come down to it, she’s got a way of defending herself.

“I want to see him throw someone over the side of the balcony again.” Ryan pipes up excitedly, apparently having heard their conversation regardless of the din of the room and their low voices. “That always gets the drunks going.” He says, laughing loudly.

“ _Again_?” Vanessa fails to hide the high-pitched sound of surprise from her voice as she stares between Ryan and Charity with wide eyes.

“Oh yeah,” He says, unable to keep his glee at bay. “Happens every time.”

“Ryan.” Irene quips around a hissed warning. “It’s not smart and it’s not clever-”

But as the words come out, and in an almost comical manner, two bodies, Billy and another man she doesn’t recognise, topple backwards over the railings either side of where Marlon is standing as though they’ve been shoved hard in the chest, and they land with a splintering clatter atop a long wooden table below.

“ _What are the chances_?” Ryan cheers incongruously, jumping to his feet as the bar erupts into ruckus screams as bottles are thrown and smashed, alcohol and glass spraying like rain in all directions.

As the fighting begins to spread like wild fire, dominos rippling throughout the tavern, Charity ruefully gets to her feet, shooting the three of them a regretful and almost mortified look, her eyes lingering on Vanessa’s before she takes a few steps away from the table.

“She left you a gun, right?” Ryan asks, but the excitement has left his voice and he gives Vanessa a quick once over, eyes settling on her hip, finding the answer.

She’s about to say she has no intention of using it until the whistle of a metal blade being drawn from a scabbard rings through her ears and she spots Charity hoisting her sword on a group of men blocking the bottom of the stairs.

It all happens quickly after that, Charity’s own actions seem to spur the rest of the tavern into action, all drawing their own weapons instead of using glass and fists, and to her own surprise, even Irene pulls out a musket from the folds of her dress, holding it at arm’s length effortlessly and Vanessa’s hand, of its own accord, does the same.

Irene almost seems bored, Vanessa observes, her expression similar to that of Charity’s as the captain works her way through the crowds, her sword seems to move independent of her own body, stabbing, slashing, she even uses the guard of the handle to bash against a few skulls.

She’s seen anger and indifference flicker across Charity’s face in the weeks she’s known her, mostly when she’d interacted with Frank and she sees it now, too. And through all of the chaos that seems to be erupting around them, Vanessa watches as Charity effortlessly works her way up the stairs to where Marlon is huddled against a pillar of wood, clinging to it for dear life. Charity moves as though she’s floating and Vanessa’s sure she can see the muscles of her back rippling beneath her shirt, arms tensed as she swings the blade of the sword towards anyone who comes too close.

Hypnotised.

That’s what she is.

Completely and utterly transfixed by the sight before her despite the brutality that comes with it. She’s yet to see this part of her life, having been ushered out of the tavern back in Port Royal and the fact that Charity had managed to keep her composure when she’d ordered her crew to raid their home… but now, Charity charges on like thunder and Vanessa finds herself frozen.

She’s surprised by how unaffected she is, how she feels no fear or trepidation. The violence is second nature to Charity, the death comes with her title as captain of the Merciless and Vanessa supposes that what she’s witnessing should distress her, but it doesn’t, Charity has made sure not to force her own choices upon Vanessa, leaving her to make her own decisions and providing ready protection if she wants it. Vanessa doesn’t turn her nose up at the sight or cower away in fear, instead, she allows her eyes to take in the marvel and grace of the captain. Admitting the scene before her to memory, storing it away for lifetimes to come.

A deafening crack silences the whole building and the burning smell of gun powder fills Vanessa’s nostrils. She realises with a start that she’s fired her own gun into the air, sawdust falling like snow from the beams above their heads, a ring of burning wood circles a deep hole.

“Think that’s enough, don’t you?” Irene asserts her own dominance in the room as though she’s talking to children. Her head held high when she realises that with the sudden realisation, Vanessa’s become frozen in her spot, gun dropping to the floor while her hands come up to cup her cheeks in horror at her own subconscious actions.

It’s ridiculous, Vanessa thinks, how much of Irene she sees in Charity…

Up on the balcony, Charity grabs the scruff of Marlon’s collar and gives him a purposeful shove back towards the stairs, Cain stopping behind him, wiping a stream of blood from his nose.

“Look at that.” The voice of a stranger pipes up, his voice rippling through the silence of the room. He’s climbing the stairs slowly, swaying in a drunken state. He looks just like any other criminal in here, covered in grime and filth with torn and unkept clothes. Vanessa feels her nose turning up at the tone of his voice as he clearly addresses Charity who begins to make her way purposefully towards him in a challenge. “The Lady Tate, struggling to keep control of her crew?” He snipes. “I suppose that’s what happens when you put a woman in char-”

The sound that follows is almost sickening. Almost, because the fact that bloke’s been shut up is all that Vanessa cares about, even as Charity’s sword glimmers with crimson through his back, skewering him on the blade, limp and lifeless. She leans in close as if to whisper into his ear, but her voice carries across the room below her, loud and clear. “It’s the _Widow_.” And she punctuates her point by yanking the sword roughly from his chest, a foot firmly on his stomach in a kick and he crumbles down the few steps behind him, landing in a heap on the floor. “Clean this up.” She waves her hand at the mess of the tavern and the few crew members who are sober enough to do so, jump into action, following her orders.

As tables are righted and the scrape of broken glass and wood begins to sound, Charity apologetically and perhaps a little embarrassed, makes her way back over to the table. “Irene-” she pauses cutting the apology short. “Thank you.” She says instead, surprising both Irene and Vanessa as she glances quickly between them, ducking low to pick up Vanessa’s musket.

Irene, keeping her face stoic, hides away her own gun and gives Charity a nod. “You’re lucky she did tha’, or Kim would have another reason to-”

“That wasn’t my fault.” Charity mutters, but there’s no fight to her words. Instead, she looks down at her feet like she’s being reprimanded by her mother.

Irene just hums and begins to gather her things. “We’ll see you tomorrow?”

Charity looks up and a shy smile tugs at the edge of her mouth. Nodding, she says, “Definitely,” and steps forward to give both Ryan and Irene a quick one-armed hug.

They all go their separate ways as though nothing had really happened, but as Charity and Vanessa make their way down to the harbour with a quiet Marlon behind them, none of them say a word.

But Vanessa’s brain is spinning, and it doesn’t stop until the moment Charity’s door clicks gently, hesitantly, behind them.

“Ness…” Charity starts but is abruptly cut short when Vanessa throws herself into her arms, lips immediately finding hers and they tumble back against the wooden frame of the door with a heavy thud.

Charity grunts but yanks Vanessa hard against her own body. A mix of adrenalin and lust burns between them, palpable in the air like the storm still brewing on the horizon. “That was brilliant.” Vanessa moans when she feels Charity’s tongue swipe against her bottom lip, but her mouth begin to travel down the side of her neck instead, like Charity isn’t sure where she wants to direct her attention to more.

“Yeah?” Charity manages but Vanessa doesn’t think she even hears what she’s saying and instead allows herself to be led towards the bed, clothes quickly discarded within the couple of feet and then they’re toppling down, giggling, onto the sheets.

-

“What about this one?” Vanessa whispers against the expanse of skin on Charity’s thigh, steadily working her way up her body, lips pressing gently against raised blemishes and indents, scars that litter her skin.

Humming, Charity lets her eyes flutter shut against the candle light and gently tugs at Vanessa’s hand, pulling her up. “That was actually shrapnel.” She says, leaning up to kiss Vanessa as she talks. “Cannon ball blasted through the hull a few years back.”

“That sort of stuff happens a lot then.”

“Mhm,” Charity nods, face burrowing into the crook of Vanessa’s neck. “More common than bar fights - sorry about that by the way.”

Chuckling, Vanessa flops down onto her side but keeps a leg tossed across Charity’s middle, letting the sheets drop around their waists. “That was definitely something.”

“Bad?” Charity asks hesitantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop and Vanessa can hear the worry behind her words.

Mulling over the words carefully in her head, trying to find the right way to explain that what had happened will always be illegal to her, no matter where they are, Port Royal or Tortuga… and that technically it was murder, violent and bloody. But she has to remind herself that this is a whole world that she’s not used to and while Charity may have become invulnerable to what had just happened, Vanessa’s not. She isn’t sure how she felt, though, shocked? Definitely. Surprised? Not as much as she thought she would be.

But one thing Vanessa is sure about, unquestionably so, is that seeing Charity fight that way, hasn’t changed her own feelings towards her. She’s almost embarrassed to admit that its almost fortified the thoughts that had occurred to her that morning, sat on the deck alone.

“It wasn’t good…?” Vanessa winces but continues anyway. “I just mean that it’s not something I’m used to seeing, y’know?” She reaches down to play with Charity’s fingers, switching between linking them together then flattening them against her own. “But I think more than anything, I just sort of felt helpless, in a way.”

It takes a moment or so but eventually Charity nods her head in understanding and a slight flicker of relief washes over her features. “I know I told you it would be dangerous to be with us, with me,” she quickly corrects herself, “but I don’t want to put you in harm’s way, not like that, Ness.”

Immediately sensing where Charity is running to, Vanessa sits up. She straddles her hips with ease and reaches down to cup Charity’s cheeks between her hands. “Hey, look at me.” She does, and just like that first night in the tavern, Vanessa feels a flutter against her rib cage. “You’ve told me all of this already, and I’ll keep giving you the same answer. I don’t want to be anywhere else.” Charity, however, still looks sceptical and Vanessa lets out a sigh. “Okay, it was-”

“Ness.”

“ _But_.” She drops her lips to Charity’s and holds them there until the tension releases from the body beneath her own. “I wasn’t _scared_. I had a gun, Irene had hers and you had the situation under control. We were safe.”

“Tell you what, then.” Charity grunts, pushing herself up into a sitting position so she can wrap her arms tightly around Vanessa’s waist. “That’s going to happen a lot and I don’t want you to feel helpless.” Hands rub up and down the length of her spine in a soothing rhythm and Charity gnaws on her lower lip in an almost nervous fashion. “I might, maybe… possibly, consider, teaching you how to use a sword. The basics.” Charity finishes with a shrug, feigning indifference but her lip pulls out from her teeth and tweaks into a smirk. “If that’s what you want, of course.” She adds unnecessarily when she watches a beaming grin pull Vanessa’s cheeks high on her face.

Vanessa, dipping her head to kiss Charity again, sinks them down into the sheets once more and she revels in the feeling of the other woman’s arms circling her body gently, a comforting warmth seeping through her bare skin and deep into her bones.

She hears her own laughter bubbling up and out of her body before she feels it shaking her chest, vibrating against Charity’s own, and it takes her a moment to realise why she finds the promise so amusing. But an image of Frank staring down at her scornfully flickers behind her closed eyelids and her laughter grows in volume until Charity releases her hold on her and rolls out from beneath her. “What’s got you so tickled?” She asks, clearly confused by the sudden change in mood.

She arches an eyebrow at Vanessa in question, patiently waiting for her to calm down. “Sorry, sorry.” Vanessa waves her hand, the other clutching at her stomach. The very concept of Vanessa even touching a sword would have nudged Frank over the very fine line of his usual composure and she finds her mind wandering back to one night, years ago now, when Tracy and she had smuggled a few too many bottles of Frank finest wine up to her room, drinking more than her body could handle. The evening had ended with the two sisters pulling down a set of Spanish Rapier’s that had been on display above the fire place in his study and consequently, in their drunken states, they’d broken a few antique vases, torn through a portrait of their grandfather and snapped one of the swords clean in half. Frank had been furious, angrier than Vanessa had ever seen him, it had almost been enough to scare Vanessa into submission, to break under his every word.

Almost.

She doesn’t doubt either, that her leaving in the dead of night will be something playing strongly on his mind, his ‘perfect’ daughter making not so perfect decisions again and again. But she supposes that he’ll have built up a façade by now, acting like she hadn’t even existed to him in the first place. After all, he had Tracy and the prospect of gaining a son through marriage, what more could he want? That had always been something she’s never been able to give him, nor has she wanted to. “I was just thinking about my dad.”

Frowning, Charity knits her fingers with Vanessa’s and shifts so that she can lay her head on her chest. “He doesn’t come across as a funny man.”

Vanessa scoffs. “He’s definitely not.” Gently running her fingers through the long, blonde, tresses of Charity’s hair, she stares up at the wooden ceiling as she speaks, dark shadows dancing across the surface, brought to life by the flickers of the candle flame beside the bed. “I’m just imagining what he’d say if he knew you were going to teach me how to fight.”

“Yeah…” Charity mumbles thoughtfully, “I can see how that would be funny.”

“It’s not really, except,” If she could, she’d shrug, but she’s too comfortable under the weight of Charity’s body. “It’s sort of freeing, knowing I don’t have to care what he thinks of me anymore. That’s Tracy’s problem now.”

“Do you miss her?”

Vanessa nods. “Yeah, a lot, but I’ll see her again.” But then she remembers whose company she’s in, who she chose to leave with and how that probably wouldn’t be possible after the wedding. “Well, maybe. If she’s not glued to Mark’s hip like a limpet.” The thought pulls something painful in her heart, like a stitch holding parts of it together, slowly, and achingly, beginning to unravel.

“You say the word and we can go back, anytime, Ness. To visit or-”

Vanessa flattens a finger over Charity’s lips, silencing her before she can suggest anything more. “I don’t want to go back to that life, Charity, not permanently, at least.” She feels a little exasperated, having to repeat herself on where she stands again, but she knows that if Charity needs the constant reassurance, the verbal confirmation that this, _this_ right here, is what she will always want, then she doesn’t mind, as long as Charity wants her here too. “Anyway, we’d all be thrown in a cell the second we stepped foot within ten yards of Tracy now, if she was with him, I mean.”

“Why’s that?” Charity asks, the confusion and curiosity evident in her tone.

Reaching out to the narrow windowsill to her left, Vanessa snatches up a half-filled bottle of rum and sips at it quietly before offering it up to Charity, needing that something extra as that thread in her chest continues to disentangle the more she thinks about Tracy. “Mark’s the Commodore, isn’t he?” There’s a little more distaste to her words than she means to use, her dislike for her sister’s fiancé obvious but even Vanessa herself, doesn’t know why it’s there. Why she doesn’t feel, or hadn’t felt, that immediate fondness towards him that the rest of her family had.

Charity splutters mid gulp, bolting up right to clear her lungs as she gasps for breath and Vanessa hesitantly knocks on her back to help clear her lungs. The sudden movement is disconcerting, nerve racking because there’s a tension rising in the air that hadn’t been there before, fizzing like static between them. “I’m, _Christ_ , I’m okay.” Charity manages to wheeze out, the action obviously painful. “Wait.” She turns to face Vanessa, eyes streaming and bloodshot. “Tracy, your sister, who is marrying Mark, the Commodore…?”

Vanessa quickly rifles her brain, searching for any moment within the past couple of weeks where she’s mentioned it, told Charity all about him – a reason for her to ask why she seems to be acting so panicked by what she’s just said – but it occurs to her then that she’s barely even thought about Mark beyond the fact that he’s the bloke her sister’s marrying. When she does look up, about to reply, she sees something in Charity’s eyes that she doesn’t recognise. Something that looks horribly to her like dread. It’s cold and dark and the usual emerald green has taken on a silvery-grey tinge, stony and emotionless.

“ _Vanessa_.”

“Yes, she’s marrying the Commodore.” She answers quickly, afraid that the dangerous sway Charity’s body has adopted may worsen if she were to avoid the conversation all together like she wants to.

“Mark…?” Charity’s shifted to the edge of the bed and has the sheet yanked up to her chest, shielding her naked and exposed body as though she’s about to bolt.

“Charity, what’s wrong?” Pleadingly, Vanessa reaches out for Charity’s hand but she’s too far away now, steadily retreating off the edge of the bed until she’s in a standing position, towering over Vanessa.

“Mark _Bails_?” Charity fills in automatically and Vanessa can physically see the way Charity’s heart pounds in her chest, the subtle flutter and stretch of skin above her left breast visible above the sheet and it’s enough for the tiles to crumble into place, slotting within a fragmented story that she’s only heard jumbled chapters of.

Vanessa feels her whole body go cold and the blood drain from her cheeks.

She nods.

For a few, painful seconds, they both freeze in complete silence. Starring one another down, waiting for the other to break first but it doesn’t happen. Charity eventually releases a shaky breath that chips at Vanessa’s heart like a pickaxe. 

“Is he?” Vanessa croaks out. “Is he that man…?” It’s impossible to tell what Charity’s thinking, her face remains stoic and indifferent, but Vanessa can see the storm brewing beneath the surface, barely held back in the glassy gaze of her eyes.

“Yeah, _that man_.” Charity says at last in a cold and colourless voice. “He’s Ryan’s dad.”

-

They don’t talk about it again after that. Charity’s choice, of course, and Vanessa doesn’t want to push, knowing what Charity’s been through, she doesn’t want to be the reason she has to relive it. Even if Vanessa does want to talk, she doesn’t push and she leaves Charity to visit Ryan and Irene alone the following day, choosing to stay on the ship with Paddy and Marlon.

However, despite how much work she asks the two men to give her, peeling potatoes, boiling water, cleaning wounds… Vanessa’s brain seems to spiral out of control the harder she tries to stop it from happening. She knows now, once the pieces have fallen into place, what Bails is capable of, what he could do to Tracy… if he hasn’t done anything already.

The notion sets Vanessa on the verge of insanity but she’s thankful for the small distractions as she stares down at the rippling water, waiting for it to bubble. She likes feeling needed on the ship, not just a stowaway, and both Marlon and Paddy let her know that her help is appreciated.

Tracy isn’t safe, that much she’s sure of. But she convinces herself that she’s as good as until the wedding. Charity, at the very least, trying to avoid any more discussion of Bails, had reassured her that he won’t do anything to jeopardise that, not until he was sure he was in complete control. And that meant Tracy was safe, for a few months at least.

The anxiety she feels riddling her veins leaves her flushed with a cold sweat and a sickly feeling deep in her stomach, something that doesn’t settle until Charity returns to the ship that evening with the rest of the crew and they set sail.

“From her.” Cain’s the first to approach her, face like gravel and he hands her what looks like an uninteresting pile of rags before he trudges off towards the helm, barely even sparing a glance in her direction.

“What’s this?” Vanessa asks, looking up at Charity when she finally strolls over to her with burlap sacks filled to the brim. She drops them by the mast with a tired grunt before tucking her hands into the belt loops on her trousers. There was still that weird tension in the air between them when they’d woken up that morning, wrapped up together despite the previous night’s revelations, and it’s still there now. But Vanessa wants to push through it, _needs_ to, because she doesn’t want this to put a wedge between them and she needs to show Charity that none of this means she’s worth any less, not to her, not to anyone.

Charity steps forward with a smug grin plastered to her face and gives a little bounce on her toes. “Gotta open it, buttercup.” She says in a vain attempt to push through the awkwardness. The mask she’s wearing doesn’t go unnoticed by Vanessa.

Charity’s purposefully dropping her eyes up and down between Vanessa and the small pile of rags, her obvious excitement plain on her face. She ducks her head, smothering her grin before it threatens to betray her and busies herself with unwrapping the dirty, torn sheets.

The way Charity continues to smile down at her eases the anxiety that has been sifting through her body for the past day and for barely a second, she’s not sure whether she should be concerned by the fact that she wants to make it her mission to keep that grin on the other woman’s face. But the question is short lived, because of course she does, and she will regardless of whatever tension lies between them. That smile sets her insides alight with sparks, her blood like gunpowder igniting with every pulse.

The final rays of the sun, burning orange and pink against the few navy clouds in the sky, catch a sharp edge of blade, short and polished. She feels her heart give an extra thud when she pulls back the rest of the rags and finds a small dagger, an almost miniature replica of Charity’s cavalry sabre but without the ‘D’ guard, one she’s come to realise was taken recently from their Spanish encounter. It’s got a short, gold hilt, long enough to fit her hand comfortably, and trailing her fingers over the grip and up to the pattern on the cross guard, she looks up at Charity with a mixture of confusion and excitement dancing in her eyes.

Charity seems to sypher the unspoken question and inches forwards into Vanessa’s personal space. She suddenly looks shy, chewing on her lower lip and unable to look Vanessa in the eye. “Seen it at one of them stalls on our way back.” She mumbles and her face twitches as she grows slightly uncomfortable. “Figured it would make a good set with that musket.”

“It looks like your sword.” Vanessa voices her thoughts with mild amusement and her smile only grows when a light pink blush forms over Charity’s cheek bones. She looks beautiful, Vanessa muses silently.

“Does it?” Charity frowns with badly feigned ignorance. “Never noticed.”

Vanessa laughs through her nose, shaking her head. “Thank you.” She reaches up on her toes and plants a soft kiss to Charity’s cheek, feeling her lean into the contact in return.

Charity clears her throat and nods her head when she pulls away. “I’ll get you a sword from the armoury tomorrow morning.” She says tilting her head in the direction of her cabin, beckoning Vanessa to follow her. It’s reassuring that Charity doesn’t want Vanessa to stay with Paddy tonight like she first feared she would. It’s strange to think that Vanessa feels almost as though she’s missed Charity while she chose to stay on the ship, leaving Charity to herself. Missed the contact, missed the warmth that Charity’s body exudes. “We’ll have plenty of time to practice now, an’ all.”

Vanessa carefully wraps the knife back up and places it on the couch in Charity’s room. The pair wander tiredly over to the bed and slump down with groggy sighs. Charity pushes herself back against the headboard while Vanessa flops backwards into the cool sheets. She gestures for Vanessa to lay her head in her lap and not needing to be told twice, she shuffles around until she’s comfortable, eyes fluttering shut when Charity’s fingers begin to fork through her hair. “How was Ryan?”

Charity lets out a content hum and Vanessa assumes her eyes are drifting closed too. “He was okay.” She says. “It’s never easy saying goodbye, but we’ll see him in a few months.”

“After the job?”

“Mhm.” She hums again, the exhaustion evident in her gravelly voice now. “Got a stop before that, though.”

“Really?” Vanessa’s not really concentrating on the conversation now, the warmth that Charity has brought back to the room, melts her muscles to liquid and she doesn’t realise she’s drifting in and out of sleep until she feels Charity’s arms cradle her body and slide her up to the pillows. “Where are we going?” For all Vanessa knows, the words don’t leave her lips, letting Charity undress her and pull the sheets up and over them, but she gets a whispered reply, muttered into the crook of her neck when an arm comes around to circle her waist and pulls her close.

“Home.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a little bit carried away with chapter, shoot me. Longest one yet but probably one of my favourites?

“How long will it take?”

Vanessa blocks a hard blow of Charity’s sword with her own, both hands clasping the thick hilt that leads way to painful vibrations that ripple into her shoulders, causing a disgruntled groan to fall from her mouth. “Six weeks, give or take.” Quirking an eyebrow at Vanessa’s bold strike, Charity gives the attack an appreciative nod. “Relax your arms.” She gives a quick demonstration, bouncing her shoulders up and down. “Here’s hoping that storm holds off, mind, or we’ll ‘ave to go the long way round.”

Vanessa foolishly lets her eyes flicker off towards the horizon, eyeing up the thunderously dark clouds looming in the distance, it’s barely even for a second, but it’s enough for Charity to come at her, the flat edge of her sword flying in to slap her with a sting to her stomach.

“Pay attention, Ness.”

“I’m trying.” She grunts, wiping at the sweat gathering at her hairline, her frustration at not being able to land any effective blows is starting to bubble up as anger in her throat, mixing poisonously with her worry and concern for not only her sisters’ safety but with her infuriation towards Charity for stepping back when she could help...

“Again.” Charity instructs, cutting off Vanessa’s train of thought and gestures for her to straighten up with a wave of her sword, the sharp point glinting threateningly under the sun. “Again.” This time, spreading her arms wide and flicking her hands towards her own body in a ‘come here’ motion, Charity waits for Vanessa to throw her weight behind her weapon until she lunges for Charity once again.

Vanessa manages to keep her balance this time, blocking Charity’s jabs and following through with her own ineffective assault. But the small amount of triumph she feels despite herself, is disappointingly short lived, the burn between her shoulder blades and the throb of pain from the slaps that Charity lands against the rest of her body eventually becomes too much. She slips up foolishly and Charity catches her a little too hard in her lower stomach.

Letting out an irritated huff, Charity drops her stance and sheaths her sword. “I think that’s enough for now.” But she allows her eyes to track over Vanessa’s body, reassuring herself that she hasn’t caused any harm.

“You think? _Jesus,_ Charity.” Vanessa doesn’t mean to snap, but between the heat pulsing down from the sun, pain aching through every inch of her body and the constant bubble of anxiety she’s felt for days now, deep in her gut, it spills from her lips before she can restrain it. But the twist of shock on Charity’s face in response, only serves to intensify her frustration and she lets out an indignant scoff, tossing her sword down to the deck, the sound of metal ringing only aiding in emphasising her anger, and she storms off towards the far side of the deck where its quieter and the noise in her head doesn’t feel so deafening.

The second she slouches against the side of the ship, the bow sending a light spray of sea water up through the air that washes over her burning face, Vanessa feels her heart relax and the tension that she hadn’t noticed winding in her shoulders uncoils. She rubs at the palms of her hands where painful blisters are bubbling, red and raw from the handle of her sword.

“Sorry…” She says, barely audible above the whistling of the wind and the sound of the ship as it crashes into the white capped waves. Vanessa’s head bows in defeat when she hears Charity’s apprehensive footsteps come to a stop behind her. She gives the handle of her knife a gentle tug, needing something to fidget with, something to keep her mind occupied and away from the guilt and worry that seems to be aggressively filling every inch of her body like poison. Vanessa digs the tip of the blade into the wooden railing and turns it in her fist, watching splinters and dust rise up around its point.  

Charity sidles up beside her, watching with a tentative gaze that flickers between the horizon and the shorter woman. “I know there’s somethin’ up, an’ you know I’m no good at this stuff, but is vandalising my ship really gonna help?” Vanessa doesn’t say anything, but she does pull the tip of the knife out of the wood apologetically, shoving it a little too forcefully through her belt. She can feel how stiff and hard her face is, her brow knitting tight and her jaw clenches painfully. But she’s not angry, far from it if she’s being honest with herself. She feels sick and the motion of the ship racing through the choppy waves does nothing to help matters. The farther out to sea they get, the tighter she feels the string around her heart growing, like it’s pulling tight, the tension growing as they sail in the opposite direction to where she knows she should be heading.

To Tracy.

It’s the first time Vanessa’s felt anything akin to homesickness and while she’s not really sure if that’s what this is, she does know that not doing something to _stop_ Bails marrying her sister is the worst possible decision.

“Talk to me, Ness.” Charity inches closer to Vanessa, her voice drops an octave and she gives her arm a gentle and reassuring nudge with her own.

Vanessa shakes her head in defeat and stands taller to match Charity’s stance, squinting against the harsh light. “So, you actually want to talk now?” She wants to kick herself for sounding so hostile when all Charity wants is to help her, a big step for her, Vanessa realises too late.

Charity doesn’t bite back like she expects to, turning to face her instead, cocking an eyebrow expectantly while her lips pull into a hard line. There’s no frosty onslaught of words that Vanessa expects to come – something she’s witnessed a fair bit lately, especially since the reveal of Tracy’s husband to be – instead, her words come calm and composed. “Y’know I don’t sleep well, right?” Vanessa watches as Charity tugs at the ends of her fingers, an inkling at the nerves prickling at her insides. She nods the bed would dip in the early hours of the morning, rousing her from a light sleep and the empty space beside her the following morning was always freezing cold. “It’s not ‘cause I enjoy spending time up there,” She gives a half-hearted tilt of her head towards where Cain is stood at the helm. “It’s ‘cause I see him every time I close my eyes, every time, Vanessa.”

“Charity-”

“He’s the human equivalent of disease, Ness, he’s the epitome of evil. And that’s somethin’ you needn’t get messed up in.” Shrugging, she turns to face out across the sea, eyes squinting against the sun. “Your dads soft and probably a bit pathetic – sorry – but he’ll see what _he’s_ like, he won’t let Tracy get hurt.”

But for the first time, Vanessa thinks Charity’s wrong. “He won’t.” She says indisputably. “He’ll marry her off for his own personal gain and you know that, don’t you, you know what he’s like, the lengths he’ll go to, to make himself look good.”

Charity’s jaw clenches and the muscles in her face harden sharply as she mutters a regrettable, “I know.”

They both know.

Vanessa, against her better judgement, feels her temper rise with a sudden burn in her throat. “You can do something to help, though.” Vanessa’s pleading tone takes a sudden turn and there’s an uncharacteristically sharp edge to her words as her desperation grows. “Are you the pirate everyone talks about or not?” It’s a cheap shot, condescending and uncalled for, but it’s too late to take it back.

“No, I’m not.”

“Charity, please-”

“No.” Charity barks, already turning away. “No. Vanessa. I can’t.” The break in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Vanessa as Charity, instead of storming up to the helm to take over from Cain, flings open the door to her cabin. “I can’t see him again.” The slam silences their conversation, leaving her alone on the deck with a few confused glances thrown her way from Jimmy and Aaron.

-

With the Merciless finally crossing through the edge of the storm, the rain begins to lash down in a painful deluge of ice cold torrents and the wind picks up with a force strong enough that Cain starts untying some of the ropes holding the mast in place, easing the tension from deck.

Vanessa keeps away from Charity too, her own temper taking over the better half of her judgement, so instead, she spends most of her time below deck with Paddy, even offers to take over watch from Aaron up in the crow’s nest.

Vanessa sits seething beside Billy one night as he comes in and out of consciousness every few minutes, manging to start a conversation with her each time before passing out. He’s got a hefty gash on the back of his right arm; one Vanessa cleans as much as she can to stop any signs of infection taking hold of him. She cleans her hands, cleans the wound, wraps his arms in clean bandages and then cleans her hands again.

She doesn’t ask how it happened, he’d been fine before he’d left the ship at Tortuga but on his return, carried by Jimmy and Paddy, he’d been drunk with a gaping wound that travelled from the top of his shoulder down to his elbow. She has an inking as to how it happened, the fall from the balcony onto the table couldn’t have been the softest of landings…

With nothing but rum to help with the pain, she doesn’t hold hope to any sort of coherent conversation. Which, she settles on, is something she’s fine with.

There’s a steady stream of rainwater that trickles down the stairs from the deck above, and she busies herself with mopping up the mess of murky puddles with a little more force than she probably means to. It’s been a week since the last time she spoke to Charity and despite still retreating to the captain’s quarters every night since, not one word had been spoken between them. She knows they’re both too stubborn to be the first to break the silence between them, but Charity continues to climb into bed during the early hours of the morning, curling up beside her with an arm tossed securely around her waist. It’s reassuring and settles some of the anger in her chest until its reduced to a low simmer. They don’t mention how Vanessa still presses her body into the warmth of Charity’s, or how Vanessa will place a gentle kiss to Charity’s jaw, the sentiment returned to her temple, both women feigning sleep in favour of talking about the elephant in the room.

Vanessa doesn’t push Charity into talking about the nightmares that wake her up in the dead of night. Instead she holds her strong and steady against her chest and rocks her back and forth until the shaking and crying stops and she drifts off, clinging to Vanessa.

But while she knows she’s partly to blame for the return of memories to Charity’s sleeping subconscious, she still feels frustrated to the point insanity by the fact that Charity could do so much to help Tracy, to help herself, but still chooses not to.

It’s infuriating, but she knows it will do neither of them any good to start another argument, not when she can plainly see how painful it is for Charity to discuss Bails.

“She still not talking to you?” The sound of Billy’s groggy voice pulls her from her thoughts, she’s been stood staring at the small river of water on the steps for god knows how long and she turns to face him, dropping Bob’s mob mindlessly.  

“Hm?”

“The captain.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding awkwardly. Vanessa moves to take the stool beside him and busies herself with his bandages as she speaks. “It’s not one sided.”

Billy shoots her an amused smirk, his lips crooked. She thinks it’s due to the alcohol in his system rather than genuine curiosity or the desire to help. “But you want to talk to her, though?”

“Course I do.”

Rolling his hazy eyes, he shifts to his side, facing away from Vanessa when she gestures to his wound. “Well go talk to her then, I don’t see what the problem is.” Vanessa instinctively thinks back to a time when she was younger, back in England, when one of their maids had dared speak to her mother this way. The resounding sound of the palm of her hand coming into contact with a cheek echoes somewhere in her brain and she hurriedly shakes the memory away.

“You wouldn’t, being holed up in ‘ere.” Vanessa widens her eyes with playful reprimanding. “It’s not as easy as that.” She mutters, feigning interest in the perfectly healing cut on his back, looking healthier than it had a week ago.

Billy flops back down onto his back, wincing when he places too much weight on the wound but manages to regain his composure quickly, blinking his watering eyes. “Well one of you have to do something and we both know she’s too hard headed to be the first. She’s got the rest of the crew on edge.” He’s only half joking, teasing her and the corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement again, a gentle chuckle parting his lips. “Heard some of them whispering last night at dinner, didn’t a? Sayin’ she’s scarier than normal.” He continues playfully and despite herself, Vanessa finds herself smiling.

“Didn’t think that were possible.” She allows herself to join in with the good-natured back and forth, finding a moment of relief from her recent stream of miserable thoughts.

“I think we both know she ain’t that scary.” He says, reaching over with a grimace to the bottle of rum beside his bed. But then his face turns serious, hand freezing in mid-air, as he says, “don’t tell her I said that though, eh?”

Laughing, Vanessa stands before helping him take a few long gulps from the bottle. She gently pats his arms as his eyes begin to flutter close and she leans down to speak softly “Secrets safe with me.”

She washes up, scrubbing her hands and pops her head into Paddy’s room to say good night, then makes the short walk back to Charity’s cabin at a bit of a sprint, her skin immediately stinging under the force of the cold rain.

The room’s warm when the door closes behind her, candles lit casting dark shadows in every direction but that’s not the first thing she notices. While it’s no surprise to her that Charity’s nowhere to be seen, a small frown sets itself firmly between her eyebrows. Vanessa doesn’t dwell on the fact for too long, changing into one of Charity’s cotton shirts in favour of making her way up to the helm to find her. The rain lashes ever harder against the stained windows, rattling them in their frames as though it were hailing.

She’s thankful for Marlon’s stove, set right beneath Charity’s quarters, the heat rising into the room as she settles, bare legged onto the couch in the centre of the room. Her soaking clothes hung up to dry behind Charity desk.

Vanessa’s pulled a book from one of the shelves, little care to what the subject really is, and flicks to the first page. It’s something to do with canons, she thinks, but most of it reads in Spanish, bar the odd paragraph that sits beneath a scratchy diagram of one of the dismantled guns.

It’s barely been touched, the top coated in a thick layer of dust and the pages are still crisp and neat. She takes it back over to the bookcase and begins to inspect the others, searching for one that seems to have seen more daylight. Vanessa tries to quell the niggling thought in the back of her mind telling her that she’s searching for a book that Charity’s used, one that may have been of more interest to her. But she’s not sure if it’s relief or disappointment she feels when she doesn’t find one that looks as though it’s been read recently, or at all. She grabs one that catches her eye instead, navy blue cover with gold lettering. It looks pretty.

‘ _The Merchant of Venice,’_ it looks newer than the other books on the shelf, completely untouched, and Vanessa wonders why Charity keeps them, knowing very well that they’re all stolen anyway. She remembers reading this particular book when she was younger, it had been a chore back then, but now she’s looking for something to pass the time until Charity returns to her room. It’s futile, however, knowing she’ll likely be asleep either way when the captain finally leaves her post as the suns rising on the horizon, but she tries anyway.

Four acts in, eyes heavy and breathing slow, Vanessa’s almost fast asleep when the door creeks open hesitantly. It’s still pitch-black outside, though, earlier than Charity would normally return to her room and it stirs something in her chest, something longing for the other woman.

Their eyes meet briefly in an awkward and wordless greeting before Charity drops Vanessa’s gaze, making her way over to the chest of draws behind her desk and she yanks out a dry set of clothes, a stained t-shirt that matches Vanessa’s own in style but instead of white, Charity’s coal black. It’s then that Vanessa notices the trail of water left behind Charity, the drips hanging precariously of the edges of her body.

Charity’s shivering, she can see it even beneath her long coat. Noiselessly, Vanessa gets up off the couch and makes her way over to the bed, grabbing the knitted blanket from the bottom and wanders back over to her seat, throwing the blanket over her legs, making sure to leave enough space beside her so as to make the silent invitation obvious. It’s a little while before Charity manages to peel her soaking clothes from her skin, she leaves them hanging beside Vanessa’s where the vent from Marlon’s kitchen blows them with hot air. For a brief moment, Vanessa think’s that Charity’s going to ignore her, act as though she’s alone in the room, but to her surprise, Charity gathers the ship’s ledger beneath her arm along with some rolls of paper and a pencil, and makes her way over to the couch.

She drops down with a heavy and tired sigh, fumbling with the work she’s set out to do, until she gets comfortable, pulling Vanessa’s legs over her own beneath the blanket and rests the heavy book on her shins. They don’t look up at one another, not once, and when the scratching of lead against rough paper fills the quiet room, Vanessa allows her attention to focus back on the book and they fall into a content peacefulness for the first time in a week.

The only time that the silence is disrupted, is when Charity gets up to grab a bottle of expensive looking wine from her desk – a gift from Irene, she’d said – but she quickly returns to the same position, her body shuddering at the change in temperature.

The bottle sits between them, propped up by their bare thighs, Charity’s own silent invitation for her to take a drink. She does, and muses at how the wine settles low in her stomach and warms her chest.

So, they stay like that for a long time. Vanessa’s not sure how much time actually passes but she assumes the sun will be piquing above the horizon soon. It’s the first time all week that she’s felt the underlining bubble of anger settle into a comfortable simmer and she no longer has that urge to shout and shake Charity into talking about Bails or beg her to help Tracy before it’s too late. There’s a warm, easy air that’s wrapped itself around them, a bubble keeping the real world out, keeping them both safe inside its walls.

It’s the gentle trail of Charity’s fingers against the inside of her calf that alerts Vanessa to the moment she’s no longer concentrating on her work, despite the fact that her eyes are still glued to the page and her pencil is still firmly in her other hand. She doesn’t stop, even when Vanessa puts her book down, folding the top corner of the page, and props her elbow up on the back of the couch to lean against it.

She doesn’t say anything, content with just watching Charity pretend to work, her fingers drawing out an unrecognisable pattern on her skin. She’s hypnotic, and it’s not just down to the way Charity’s managing to produce tingling goose bumps that erupt across Vanessa’s body. Vanessa trails her eyes up and down the length of Charity’s profile that’s exposed above the blanket covering her legs. She settles on the slight frown that dips between her eyebrows, the skin pinched together and then moves down the gentle slope of her nose to her lips, pursed together into a pout as she tries visibly to focus on the page in front of her and not the fact that Vanessa’s plainly observing her actions. It makes Vanessa smile despite the previous week of tension between them.

She feels the gentle smile tugging at the corners of her lips when Charity’s fingers begin to trail further up her leg, inching closer to her thigh and Vanessa lets out an involuntary shudder of a sigh at the static sensation in her nerves, the electricity pulsing through her body...

“When’s the wedding?” Charity breaks the silence, voice low and quiet but it still makes Vanessa jump.

“What?”

Charity doesn’t look up, keeps her hand moving on Vanessa’s leg and continues to scribble away in the ledger. She keeps her attention purposefully on her work. “Tracy and Bails, have they set a date?”

Vanessa blinks away her confusion and straightens up. “September.”

“Right.” Charity nods but it doesn’t look as though she’s about to say anything else.

“Wh-”

“We’ll get her out.” Vanessa’s heart gives a hefty thud. “Once we’ve finished this job, we’ve got time, I’ll get a crew together and we’ll get her out of there.” Charity’s hand gives her knee a tight and reassuring squeeze, but her eyes remain locked on the ledger in front of her. “After that though, Ness, it’s not my fight.” She gives Vanessa a regretfully defeated shrug.

The anxiety and anger evaporate, as though a gust of wind has washed over her and carried it off into the early morning darkness; the weight she feels lifting, leaves her sighing in relief. But she knows the implications the decision has for Charity and she understands the weight of the words as they settle in the silence between them. So, she doesn’t make a big deal out of it, doesn’t throw her body forward and envelop the other woman in her arms like she wants to. Instead, she settles on a quietly whispered, ‘thank you’ that’s accepted with a curt nod and the pair fall back into a calm hush.

Vanessa picks her book back up but doesn’t make any effort to read the writing on the page. She stares, the black and white blurring together while relief flutters through her body.

She drops the book to the floor less than a minute later, little care for losing her page as she reaches out and takes Charity’s hand from her leg, giving it a tug. Charity, still looking down, closes the ledger, loose paper trapped between the pages and shoves it down the gap between the cushions and the arm of the couch. She lets Vanessa pull her towards her, climbing forwards until she’s situated between her legs comfortably.

Neither speak a word, allowing dark eyes to desperately trail over one another’s faces before Charity lurches forwards, catching Vanessa’s lips with her own. It’s been a week since they’ve kissed like this, urgent and burning and the fire between Vanessa’s legs erupts into life.

One hand buries itself in Charity’s hair while the other begins to yank hastily at the hem of her black shirt, tugging it up and over her head with ease. The break in the kiss gives Charity the chance to drop her lips to Vanessa’s neck, instigating a shuddering gasp that rattles through her body and her hands fly to Charity’s back, nails digging into skin unapologetically, leaving long, red streaks in their wake.

Charity groans, long and deep and her teeth tug at the junction between Vanessa’s shoulder and neck while she makes quick work of untying the front of Vanessa’s shirt. Charity throws open the material and for a fleeting moment Vanessa allows her to trail kisses down the front of her body, reaching her bellybutton before she starts tugging Charity back up to her head, a sudden and desperate need to see her eyes, to feel them locked with her own.

Charity must understand because there’s no fight as she returns her lips to Vanessa’s, no cocky remark. Instead, she trails a delicate line down the valley between Vanessa’s breasts, swirls a fingertip around her bellybutton and then further down until she finds hot, wet heat between Vanessa’s legs.

They both gasp in harmony, pleasure sparking through every inch if Vanessa’s body, she pulls away to steady her breathing, gazing hard into Charity’s eyes as the fingers between her legs begin to move with a reaching purpose.

Nails digging harder into the muscles of Charity’s back, Vanessa doesn’t once avert her eyes from hers, keeping them locked as she gasps into the air between their mouths, each stroke of Charity’s fingers brings Vanessa an inch closer to the edge she’s hurtling towards, an unstoppable force on the verge of everything. But this doesn’t feel as hasty and as lustful as their other encounters have been, desperate and needy. This is something else, she feels it in Charity’s touch, the gentle stroke of her palm down the side of her cheek as she comes crashing into an orgasm, can see it in the darkness behind her eyelids, something soft and…

She knows that look, knows it to be mirrored in her own eyes when they flicker open and before she’s even aware of it beginning, Charity’s fingers are dipping down for one last thrust, and she’s crashing through another orgasm, the force tearing through her body as she lets out a silent scream of pleasure. One of her hands holds Charity close, pressing into the base of her spine while the other cups the back of her neck, keeping her from pulling away just yet, needing the heavy fog in green oceans to engulf her senses.

Vanessa tries to blink away the welling of tears in her eyes, the realisation of what’s been thrumming through her body since the moment she first met Charity, in that overflowing tavern in Port Royal, collides with any understanding of how this is supposed to work, of how, realistically, it never should have worked to begin with. Everything she’s ever known, a life that was never worth living, she thinks, has been righted because of this woman. This beautiful, wonderful woman who’s holding her steady.

It’s a moment before Vanessa realises Charity crying too, a stray tear falling to her cheek. But neither say a word, choosing to cling to one another instead, the words are there regardless of whether they’ve been voiced or not and it’s all they need. The knitted blanket is pulled up to drape gently across Charity’s back keeping them safe within their own little bubble inside the cabin.

Vanessa’s sure it’s all she’ll ever need.

-

They reach a small, secluded island in the midst of the storm but despite the raging weather, the crew seem to be oddly excited and a thrum of contagious enthusiasm spreads like wildfire. Even Charity marches around the ship, yelling out orders as they come to lay anchor with an extra bounce to each purposeful step.

I thick, white fog shrouds their view of any signs of land other than a grey-ish shadow that wisps in and out of vision with the gentle breeze that carries the flow of cloud, but Charity’s confidence in their bearings reassures Vanessa that they’re not about to sail off into the middle of the Atlantic blind… or worse.

There’s a strong smell of sulphur in the air and it occurs to Vanessa then, that perhaps not all of what surrounds them is mist. She’s read books and seen drawing of mountains that spewed molten rock form their summits, it seems plausible to her now, that the shadows ghosting in and out of view may just be the body of a volcano. Fitting, she thinks, that a bunch of pirates, notorious for their destruction amidst the sea, would call such a desolate and equally distractive piece of land _home_.

Navigating the choppy waters, Vanessa notices that its littered with the wreckages and ruins of unfortunate ships that failed the crossing to the island, their remains scattered like headstones, marking death like flags that jut out above the water. “Hidden rocks.” Charity explains, barely above a whisper. “Impossible to survive unless you know where you’re going.” The wreckage floats by, bumping into the ship before bouncing back and floating off on another course. “The hammer heads probably have a part in that too…” Charity pointedly looks away, avoiding eye contact with Vanessa as her face scrunches up into a grimace.

“This is where you live?” Vanessa realises with a start how underwhelmed and disapproving she sounds and quickly turns to apologise to Charity.

However, the other woman only laughs and lets out an amused snort. “Just you wait, kid.” She says smugly, throwing an arm over Vanessa’s shoulders to tug her closer, holding her against her side as she sues her free hand to steer the rudder.

It happens so fast that Vanessa isn’t sure whether she’s blacked in the second or so it takes for realisation to dawn on her. The fog seems to dissipate in a blink of an eye, the rain dies off and the howling wind eases to a gentle breeze. She’s startled into a breathless silence, a scene so beautiful sits before her that she swears it belongs in a painting. A towering mountain of flush, green trees – palm trees she recognises clearly along the shore line, but the farther she looks, the more they seem to blur together, gran blankets of plants crawl up the mountain. It’s beautiful, struggling to keep her eyes focused on one part of the mountain for very long when she settles on a steady plume of smoke billowing out of its summit. So, it is a volcano, then, but she realises that the air doesn’t smell so much of sulphur this close to the island.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she turns, expecting to see the edge of the storm somewhere behind them, but another startled gasp is wrenched from her lungs when all she’s met with is a great wall of white cloud. “Moses says it’s magic.” Charity says, chuckling lightly.

“Is it?” It’s a ridiculous notion, but Vanessa can find no logical explanation to describe the phenomenon that sits behind them, her voice whispers out with wonder.

Charity scoffs playfully and wiggles her eyebrows at Vanessa with a grin forming on her face. “Maybe it is. Who knows?” And with a quick shrug and a faraway expression on her face, she adds, “keeps people away, anyhow.” Vanessa rolls her eyes but finds herself smiling anyway, leaning in to Charity’s embrace. “We came here just after my first marriage, the crew I mean, it was somewhere we couldn’t be followed.”

Something tingles at the back of her neck, the fine hair there stands on end like her body senses the change in tone. She wants to ask about Charity’s husbands, to understand if the stories are true, that she killed those men. But she can’t force her mouth to move.

“Never told any of them about it.” Charity mumbles uncomfortably as though it’s sickening to talk about such things now. “You ‘ave to know what you’re looking for, see. ‘Ave to know it’s here.” She says with an unconcerned shrug, bringing the brief conversation to an end.

The ship takes a steady turn to the right, following the sharp edge of the coast line until they round the edge of a cliff face and then dip into a sheltered cove.

They take almost everything off the ship with them, loading their arms evenly before they leave and they’re met on a makeshift dock by a small crowd of people, all seemingly very enthusiastic to welcome the crew home.

Vanessa cautiously holds back, choosing to help Billy off the ship instead of standing in the way of the family reunions. She helps him gather his bags onto his one good arm before she thinks better of it and takes them back, throwing them over her own. “Happy to be back?”

Shrugging, Billy gives her a half-hearted smile. “It’ll be nice to see mum, but I’m not sure how me brother’s ‘bout to react.”

“Why-”

She turns just in time to find Charity hesitantly shuffling from foot to foot at the edge of the plank. She smiles at Vanessa hopefully and all coherent thought is suddenly wiped from her mind. Somewhere behind her, she can hear Billy talking but it registers as static as she makes her way over to Charity who graciously takes one of the bags, hands it back to Billy with a glare and hoists one of Vanessa’s own up into her arms. “Ready?”

She hadn’t realised she’d accumulated so much of her own belongings until now, having joined nearly four months earlier with nothing, but leaving noq with a sack full of her own things… “Mhm.” Vanessa doesn’t fight the smile that starts as a warm buzz in her chest and swiftly grows when Charity instinctively takes her hand without a trace of hesitation on her face. “Thought you’d be one of the first off.”

Vanessa thinks the disgruntled scoff that Charity lets out will be the only response she’ll get, but as she helps her up onto the plank and carefully follows behind Vanessa, she gives a muttered reply. “Not got many people desperate to see me, have I?” She says and points down to the mingling crowd. “See? Paddy has Chas.”

Vanessa spots Paddy’s bald head reflecting the sun and a woman with wavy black hair throwing herself into his arms. She’s listened to him talking about her plenty over the past couple of months and it pulls at her heart warmly seeing them both reunited.

“Marlon has Jessie and April, Cain has Moira and the kids…” Charity lists off as though she’s trying to make a point, her own self-pity evident within her tone and it becomes obvious that she’s trying to explain, without saying it so obviously, that her own kids won’t be down there to greet her.

Vanessa gives Charity a smile and squeezes her hand. “You got me.” She hopes her own confession doesn’t become too emotionally draining for Charity to hear but her worries are washed away when Charity gives her a quick wink and continues down the dock.

“Can’t argue with that one.” The crowds easing out to the final stragglers and a tall woman who’s been wrapped up in Marlon’s arms until seconds before, charges past Charity and Vanessa and tackles Billy into what looks to be a bone crushing embrace. Vanessa doesn’t miss the exasperated roll of Charity’s eyes that’s shot in the direction of the woman but she doesn’t have time to question her reasons because a high-pitched scream of, ‘ _Mummy_!’ echoes through the air, bouncing off the looming cliff walls of the cove.

Their hands are ripped apart as a tiny body pummels into Charity, sending the woman stumbling back a few feet before she can gather herself and hoist the young boy up into the air. “You’ve gotten so big!”

Vanessa realises, with his big blue eyes and straw-coloured hair, that this is definitely Moses. He has Charity’s jaw line and eyes, but his nose and mouth are different, parts of him that she doesn’t see in Charity. She holds him tightly, her arms wrapping securely around his waist, hands settling on his ribs as they rub in tight circles.

But the flash of surprise and shock, visible for barely a second, flickers across Charity features.

Moses sinks his hands into Charity’s hair and buries his face deep into the crook of her neck, squealing when his mother begins to spin them both on the spot. “I’ve missed you lots.” She says quietly but it’s loud enough that Vanessa catches it.

The scene gives her an akin sense of déjà vu, an impossible memory – a dream most likely – but she feels it deep inside her, this image of Johnny in her own arms, spinning him in the air. She’s not overwhelmed by the loss and sadness that seems to have become a constant in her life now, instead, it feels like an extension of herself, another body part that she’s grown used to having. The bubble of affection is what dampens the dark feelings she’s grown used to, seeing Charity like this…

She’s staring, can’t seem to help it much, and when Charity turns to face her, a beaming grin is plastered across her face that doesn’t falter.

Vanessa returns it without a second thought, feeling it pull effortlessly at the muscles in her cheeks.

“You want to meet someone?” Charity whispers into Moses’ ear, her eyes still locked with Vanessa’s and he gives an excited nod just as another woman and two young children sidle up beside Vanessa, catching Charity’s eye for the first time, a spark of something else in the deep green. Debbie, Vanessa knows her immediately, every aspect of her is a version of Charity with slight flickers of Cain here and there. She’s beautiful, just like Charity but there’s a different type of coldness in her eyes that successes her mother’s and the resting frown she wears is almost identical to Cain’s. A faraway song rings in her memories from a night that feels like months ago now. “This is Vanessa, can you say ‘hello’?” While she keeps her voice soft and sweet, Vanessa thinks she’s asking Debbie, too, her eyes flicker between her two children and then to her grandkids.

Moses shyly waves before quickly hiding his face away into Charity’s hair again peeking out through the long blonde tresses to glance up at Vanessa curiously.

Stepping close enough to her that Vanessa can reach out if Moses lets her, Charity takes her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “This is Moses.” She says and then turns to introduce Debbie and the kids.

It’s a little awkward and the air between them isn’t as comfortable as it had been when she’d met Ryan and Irene, but Debbie seems welcoming enough and the tension begins to steadily dissipate as the small group begin to make their way into the small village, passing through a low cave like tunnel that cut into the cliffs before they break out into a scattering of trees.

“So, did you kill someone?” The question directed at Vanessa, blunt and direct, makes her stumble a few steps before she regains her balance and looks at Debbie with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

“Sorry?” Vanessa asks with a nervous smile.

“You must’a done something wrong,” Debbie says as though the answer should be obvious. “Why else would you be with this lot?” The obvious distaste for her mother’s lifestyle choice doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone but Moses and Jack. Charity visibly clenches her jaw while Sarah speeds up, purposefully trying to gain a few yards on the small group.

Vanessa was never one for keeping her emotions in check, always wore her heart on her sleeve, always made her displeasure obvious. Which is why she fails to stifle the nervous laugh that escapes her lungs in breath sigh. “No, not at all.” Chancing a glance at Charity, Vanessa waits for some sort of reassurance that she can tell Debbie the truth, or a shortened version of that at least. The other woman, however, is engrossed in a conversation with Moses, gratefully accepting broken and dirty shells that he’s collected, pulling them out of his pockets excitedly. “Just fancied a change of scenery.” Vanessa settles on instead, giving a tight-lipped smile.

Nodding, Debbie seems to accept the answer for what it is, whether she believes it or not, she doesn’t let on. “You sticking around then?” Vanessa doesn’t miss the way that Debbie glances down at her neck – the bruising faded enough that it can easily pass as a shadow – then over to Charity and back to Vanessa whose eyes are still glued to the other woman and her son. “With mum?”

Vanessa’s nodding before Debbie’s finished speaking. “Yeah, hopefully.” And she means it, every word of it. Last night’s changed something, the dynamic between Charity and her had bloomed into something much more than a possibility, more than a ‘maybe’. A future with Charity seems more palpable than it had done previously, before the silence and the anger, before the question that hung in the air was lifted.

Debbie’s quiet after that and they reach a wide track, spoilt with horses and carriages over years of use. It’s shaded by a canopy of palm leaves hanging above that offer a moment of relief from the burning sun. When they reach the small village, the rest of the crew and their families are already filing off in different directions, but there’s a steady flow towards one building that Vanessa recognises to be a tavern. She’s found herself frequenting them more in the past couple of months than she has in her entire life.

“Dinner tonight?” Debbie asks coming to a stop outside the building. Sarah and Jack hurry off down the path, leaving their mother standing awkwardly in front of Vanessa and Charity.

“Sounds good.” Says Charity, placing Moses down beside her and he immediately clings to her leg with tiny fists that twist around the fabric of her trousers. “Just come over whenever.” The two women nod at one another, and Vanessa’s sure that’ll be the end of the conversation but Debbie steps forwards and wraps Charity into her arms, giving her a tight squeeze.

“It’s good you’re back.” She mumbles hurriedly and then, to Vanessa’s surprise, she turns to face her. “Was nice to meet you an all.”

“You too.” Vanessa splutters, taken aback.

“Right, well, we’ll go get sorted.” Charity says, pointing towards the tavern. “This is us.” She holds her hand out for Vanessa to take and she does so without a second thought. “See you later.”

Debbie waves them off and the two women make their way up the stone steps. “This your home?” Vanessa asks with more curiosity compared to the last time the words fell from her lips.

“Mhm.” Charity says, leading her through the bar, past a handful of punters and into the back room. “Live here with Chas and Paddy.” She explains, feigning indifference. “The boys too. Well, whenever Noah decides he’s coming home, anyway.”

“It’s nice.” Vanessa says, letting her eyes skate around the room, taking in every ounce of the space that she can fill her mind with. It’s homey, she thinks, little bits of Charity scattered here and there but its vastly overpowered by another person’s life. Chas’s, most likely. It’s nothing like the captain’s quarters on the ship, something Vanessa’s come to associate with Charity’s personality, warm but disseminated with fragments of gloom and stolen belongings. “Really nice.”

“Thanks.” Charity finally looks up, tossing her bag to the ground by her feet. Vanessa watches as a flicker of apprehension twitches at the corner of her eye. “I’m gonna put some water on to boil, for Chas, don’t want to give her a reason to start shouting off me ear.” A nervous laugh bubbles up and Charity rubs at the back of her neck. “We can go take our stuff up later, pretty sure she’ll want to meet you first.”

“Should I be worried?” She says, only half joking.

With a mischievous roll of her eyes, Charity closes the space between them in the middle of the living room, her arms come to circle around Vanessa’s waist and tugs her in close. “Nah, it’s me who should be worried.” Charity drops her voice low and places a gentle kiss on her cheek.

Moses creeps past when he sees his chance and begins to yank clothes and books from the sack, tossing them on the ground with excited squeals that reluctantly pull Charity and Vanessa apart.

Laughing, Charity crouches down to gather up Vanessa’s things, cramming them carefully back into the bag. “Don’t do that, kid, Chas will flip her-”

The door creeks open fully and the three of them look up with startled, wide eyes. “Flip her what?” Chas is standing with her arms crossed with a blank expression on her face, eying Charity warningly while Paddy shuffles from foot to foot awkwardly behind her. “Charity?”

-

Vanessa’s body lets out a final shudder as she clings to Charity’s bare shoulders, legs spread wide for her to stand between them, nails digging into skin, desperately trying to stay grounded. There’s a cool breeze flowing in through the open window as the sun rises steadily over the horizon, the wood of the dresser Vanessa’s perched on chills her bare thighs and a ripple of goose bumps erupts over her skin.

“God, _Charity_.” Vanessa gasps as Charity withdraws her fingers with deliberate slowness, peppering light kissed along her collar bone and up her neck, coming to stop over the shell of Vanessa’s ear.

A breathy whisper sends electricity racing down her spine, heat immediately pooling between her legs once again as Charity leans in closer. “Been dying to do that since we got here.”

Vanessa’s heart flutters lightly and she yanks Charity towards her by the nape of her neck, slamming their lips together roughly. She moans, guttural and long, when Charity’s tongue swipes hotly against her own, their breaths coming out to mingle in the minimal space between them.

Hands sink into long tendrils of hair, nails scrape across skin, hips rock desperately.

The airs pulled suddenly from Venessa’s lungs with a surprised, “ _umph_ ,” when Charity’s hands hook beneath her thighs and hoist her up off the dresser in one fell swoop, carrying her over to the bed effortlessly.

It’s nearly an hour later when they finally manage to drag themselves out of bed, muscles burning and bones aching in the most satisfying way possible. They make quick work of dressing, and while Vanessa isn’t completely sure of where they are, she deduces from the burn of the sun that they must be farther south that Port Royal and Tortuga, so she settles on a long, loose fitting shirt, one of Charity’s again, and ties it at the waist with a belt. There’s no way she’s going to try and squeeze into the tight, leather pants she’s been wearing on the ship, the shirt long enough on her that it easily passes as a dress where it drops to her mid-thigh. And if it does have Charity lingering on her thighs with indecent heat in her gaze, then that’s just another advantage. She throws her hair up, needing the breeze there to keep her cool if it’s possible and chooses a pair of sandals, forgoing the boots she usually wears.

“Very nice.” Charity husks, giving Vanessa an appreciative once over, her eyes trailing darkly over her body before they settle on her eyes, lids heavy.

Vanessa scoffs, “give over,” but steps closer to kiss Charity gently. “I’m just happy I don’t have to squeeze into one of those ridiculous dresses. I swear, a corset in this weather…” She blows out her cheeks, feigning exasperation and lets Charity lead her out the room, chuckling.

“We both know you make hot and sweaty look good.” Charity throws suggestively over her shoulder as they make their way down the creaky stairs. Vanessa doesn’t say anything but ducks her head in response to the faint blush that’s invading her cheeks. “Speaking of,” Charity comes to a stop halfway down the stairs, turning to face Vanessa. “Breakfast then down to the beach? Debs wants to take the kids.”

Vanessa lets out an appreciative hum around a smile. “Sounds lovely.” Then follows Charity the rest of the way down the stairs and into the living room, joining Chas and Paddy in the kitchen, Moses is playing with a toy horse in Chas’s lap.

“Morning love.” Chas says, directing the greeting to Vanessa. “Sleep okay?”

Charity throws breakfast together pretty quickly and places it down in front of the small group settled around the table, tearing up pieces of food for Moses. Vanessa revels in the way Charity has so easily slipped into this role of a mother, how she effortlessly adapts to her surroundings without barely a blink of hesitation.

They clean up the table not long after and Vanessa decides to help Chas throw together some food and drinks while Paddy runs out on some errands with promise to meet them later and Charity packs some work together to finish up on the beach.

“You’ll be dying for some fresh water, I imagine.” Chas muses as she fills a couple of flasks.

Laughing, Vanessa nods and packs sandwiches into the bottom of the basket. “Anything that doesn’t taste like rum will make me very happy.”

Chas comes to join her at the table. “Well we have plenty of both ‘round here.”

The easy flow of conversation between Chas and herself makes Vanessa feel more welcome here than she originally expected to be, there’s no coldness or sharp glances like those she received from Debbie, but she puts that down to a protectiveness that she recognises in Tracy sometimes. “You lived here long?” Vanessa asks once they’re packed up and making their way out of the back door, Charity hurrying behind them with what Vanessa recognises to be the ledger and a few small bags that jingle metallically when she moves.

Chas sidles up beside Vanessa, a tattered but expensive looking parasol held in one arm, shielding them from the sun and the other comes to hook around Vanessa’s elbow, linking them as they take the same route down to the beach that they’d used upon their arrival. “Couple of years now, came over from England to be with family.” She makes a point of tilting her head back towards Charity who’s comically trying to juggle a mountain of papers and bags of gold in the arms while steering Moses with an outstretched leg. “Not that I get to see much of ‘em.”

“Charity says you’ve got a big family?”

“Cain’s my brother.” Chas starts, leading the pair over to the side of the track where the trees are heavily shading the path below. “Got a few cousins, Charity’s one of them, but I’m sure she’s explained all that.”

“She mentioned it.” She says, readjusting the basket on her arm. “Faith’s your mum?”

Chas lets out a laugh that sounds more sarcastic than genuine. “Meet her in Port Royal, did you?” Vanessa nods and offers up a kind smile in hopes that Chas sees she holds no judgement behind her words. “She comes back with them every now and then.”

“Met her the first night Charity showed up,” Vanessa blurts. “With my sister.”

A knowing smirk tugs at the corner of Chas’s lips, the side closest to Vanessa but she keeps her eyes purposefully trained on the path ahead, assuming indifference. “That the night you ran off with her?” Despite the obvious insinuation to her words, Chas’s tone remains soft and unjudgmental.

“No, it was the night after.” Vanessa says, her face twitching at the edges as she thinks back to Frank. “Found out my dad had borrowed money off Charity to get himself appointed Governor.” She explains weakly, disappointed with her father’s actions more than anything else. “He owed her, didn’t pay his debt, so she came by to claim it.”

“An’ you took your chance?” Chas says, laughing lightly.

“Can’t blame me really, you’d ’ave done the same if you knew him.”

“Don’t doubt it.” Chas speaks comprehensibly but her laughter dies down quickly. “You and our Charity, then?”

Vanessa raises a questioning eyebrow at the insinuation. “Me ‘n Charity?” She doesn’t need to ask, and she’s sure Chas already knows the answer without her having to explain herself.

“I’m sure you’ve had enough people warning you off her, so you don’t have to worry ‘bout me doing that.” Chas says reassuringly, covering Vanessa’s hand with her own. “But you make her happy, so that’s all I’m gonna say about it. No warnings or threats.”

Vanessa’s quiet for a moment, mulling the words over in their honest simplicity. “She makes me happy too.” Vanessa finally says after a long moment and chances a glance back over her shoulder to find Charity already look up at her, eyes soft with something warm dancing in the green that’s mirrored in the canopy of palm leaves above them, glowing with the morning sun.

“So I’ve heard…” Chas fights with her own enjoyment until her face breaks into a grin and her laughter echoes through the trees around them, loud and true.

“Oh, god.” Burying her face into her free hand, Vanessa can’t hide the burning crimson blush that immediately climbs her neck and fills her cheeks. “I’m so sorry-”

Chas waves off the apology before she can finish. “Don’t be. I made Paddy wash up some pots so that covered up most of the noise.”

The remaining walk down to the beach is spent with the pair laughing and giggling between themselves, sharing quick stories here and there when Charity edges up beside them and it’s the first time in a while that all thought of Bails and Tracy have been wiped from the forefront of her mind. She thinks she sees it in Charity too, this carefree air about her that tells Vanessa she’s feeling the same weightlessness in her chest.

They settle down onto a sheltered area of the sand close to the cliff face where the strong breeze is sweeping in off the sea and the sun can’t quite reach them. Sarah and Jack run off to play in the waves when Debbie joins them an hour later and the four women sit comfortable together, watching Moses pile sand into little towers in front of them, submerging his feet beneath the grains and giggles when he catches sight of his tiny wiggling toes breaking the surface.

Charity, with her back to the stone and rock, scribbles down numbers into the ledger with the bags of gold opened to her right. Chas and Debbie are laughing about something or other that had happened in the village while Charity had been away, the joking going over both of their head while Vanessa leans lazily into Charity’s side, flicking through the pages of the sailing book she’d kept on herself since Tortuga. Lazy fingers tangle in Vanessa’s hair, rubbing gentle circles against her scalp and it’s all Vanessa can do not to let her eyelids droop and let her exhaustion envelop her. She tries to focus on a particularly difficult knot, huffing out an irritated breath until Charity absentmindedly takes it the rope from her and corrects the mistake before handing it back for Vanessa to repeat.

“Would it kill you to stop working for a second, mother?” Debbie bites when the jingle of coins slipping from one of the small bags hit the sand, pulling the two women from their conversation.

Charity shrugs dismissively, glancing up for a second and smirks, eyes dropping back down to the page. Vanessa can sense the cocky remark before Charity even voices the words, something in the way her shoulders square smugly and the contact against her scalp begins to move with purpose. “Wasn’t working this morning, eh, Ness?”

Chas lets out a sudden snort, coughing around a mouthful of water and Vanessa gasps, scandalised. She slaps at Charity’s thigh with her book and makes a point of not making eye contact with Debbie.

“Lovely.” Debbie drawls, getting up to join her kids with an irritated roll of her eyes. “Just _lovely_.”

Vanessa feels Charity’s body shake behind her with silent laughter and smiles to herself when she goes to open the book at her lost page. But before she can find her place, she feels something poke at the bottom of her foot and looks up.

Moses is holding an outstretched stick in his small hand, smiling up at her, the lack of shyness he’d had for her the day prior is completely superseded by childish curiosity. “Got yourself an admirer.” Charity mutters, not looking up from the shares she’s sorting into piles for the crew.

“Castles or sword fight?” Moses says, holding up his stick in one hand and pointing to the messy piles of sand with the other.

Vanessa’s heart gives a light flutter in her chest, a mixture of sadness and happiness mingling into something she doesn’t really understand, but she doesn’t dwell on it for long, climbing to her feet and dusting off the dry sand from her legs, she holds out her hand that Moses takes without question and he drags her over to the sand castles. “What about both?” Vanessa asks with an air of excitement she’s sure he’ll enjoy.

“Okay!” He half shouts half squeals and it makes Vanessa laugh, tugging her down into the sand beside him. She lets him show her how to complete the simple task, but he does so with so much conviction that she makes a few mistakes here and there that have him laughing at her. “Silly, Nessa, like this.” He says when she ‘accidently’ places the twig in the wrong place, correcting her with a roll of his eyes that is so much like Charity it makes her pause. “Like this.” Moses says again when she doesn’t move and lifts her hand up so he can place the twig in her palm.

“Oh…” She says teasingly, poking the stick into the top of the sand. “Like that?”

Moses grins and claps his hands erratically but before she can join in with the celebration, he lunges forwards and crushes the pile beneath his stomach, screeching out his joy through broken, contagious giggles.

“You’ll pay for that.” Vanessa gasps with pretend shock, jumping to her feet with the stick in her hand. Moses catches on fast and begins running off down the length of the beach, laughing and shouting as Vanessa chases after him. He’s hurting off in the direction of the water when Vanessa drops the stick and catches him under his arms, hoisting him up into the air before he can fall face first into the sea. “Gotcha.” She chuckles a little breathless and he turns in her arms to face her.

“Go in?” He asks, pointing at the waves that lap at the dry sand, the tide coming in steadily.

Vanessa pauses to track her eyes across the beach, it doesn’t seem to be coming in too fast but even so, she’d rather not risk drowning the pair of them. “Only for a little bit.” She says eventually and gently drops Moses, keeping hold of his hand.

They take a couple of steps into the water; its icy cold and a collective gasp is ripped from the pair of them. Moses moves closer, clinging to the bottom of her shirt as well as her hand and looks up. “Bit cold.” He says but he’s grinning, baring his chattering teeth. “Up.” Demanding with his arms in the air for Vanessa to lift him up, he clenches and unclenches his fists in a needy plea.

Complying with an amused chuckle, she lifts Moses back up into her arms but doesn’t make a move to step out of the freezing waves because there’s that fluttering in her chest again, but she thinks she understands it now. It’s a mixture of mourning for a life she could have had while the other half of her heart is celebrating the life she’s found. A sense of belonging she’s found while being with Charity over the past four months, a reason to go on.

Vanessa can’t imagine a life back with her farther anymore, a life in Port Royal, or England for that matter – without Charity and her crew, her kids and Chas… even Cain. The only thing she does miss, she knows with no uncertainty, is Tracy. Who she has no doubt would be envious of the life she’s made for herself now.

That last thought sits heavily in her gut like lead. She turns around on the spot in hopes of finding Charity’s gaze, something to settle the pain inside.

But when she does find Charity and Chas sat a little further up the beach, they’re no longer alone. Cain and Paddy have joined and while she expects to see Moira and her kids somewhere behind, the rest of the beach is empty. Instead, Cain’s bent low, whispering something into Charity’s ear that has her face twisting into something nasty, anger or frustration, she can’t quite tell from here.

Charity’s eyes meet Vanessa’s suddenly and they soften, with badly hidden concern that's still visible through the distance between them. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my favourite chapter but please don't hate me?

Vanessa’s crammed between Billy and Marlon in the middle of the Woolpack, the rest of the crew have scattered themselves around the tavern’s various seating, while Charity perches herself up on the bar top with a superior air of grace, one leg propped up with an arm tossed over the knee and her other leg hangs aimlessly in dead air. Cain and Paddy stand still to her left with bored expressions waiting for everyone to quieten down.

Chas rings the bell behind the bar with just as much authority as Charity carries herself and silence falls, but she doesn’t hang around, quickly making her exit into the back room. “Listen up!” Charity calls, with an unnecessary amount of volume. “You all know now we’ve been hired for a job.” She starts, kicking one leg out to cross over the other. “We were hoping to have more time here before we had to leave, however,” her voice raises over the bout of hushed whispers that start up. “ _However_ , it’s been brought to my attention that our target, the Queen Anne, has set sail sooner than we anticipated and will be met by a fleet of British ships from Port Royal.”

“We’ll be killing ourselves!” A voice Vanessa recognises but can’t put a face to, yells from somewhere behind her, drawing out a chorus of angry agreement that sets Charity’s jaw into a hard, painful line. The frustration isn’t one sided, Vanessa notes as Cain takes a step towards the crew, shoulders squared. He comes to an abrupt holt, however, when Charity holds up a hand in dismissal, effortlessly silencing the room.

“Which is why, thank you, _Rodney_ ,” Vanessa’s surprised by how Charity succeeds to keeping her voice calm and collected while still managing to wordlessly intimidate the room. She drops low in her chair, feeling her breathing increase at the authority that Charity is exuding in thick, heavy waves that feel as though they’re blanketing her body with heat. “We’ll be setting sail two days from now, cut her off, intercept the ship before it meets the fleet in two weeks’ time.”

“What’s so important about-”

Charity slams her hand down onto the counter so hard, Vanessa’s surprised she doesn’t wince. The crew jump in unison, the sound ringing through the room like a gunshot and silences Rodney once again. “Mr Blackstock…” Charity says, this time without the calmness she’d used a moment before. “If you have any concerns or worries about this job, then please, let us listen.” She stops for barely a second and the intake of breath behind her tells her he’s about to do just that, but then Charity cuts him off again. “But just so you know, it’ll be the last time anyone in this room will listen to a word you have to say.”

Vanessa crosses her legs and chews on her lower lip, trying to hold in the snicker that ripples up her throat. Billy nudges her arm with a grin that she’s sure matches her own and she clamps a finger over her mouth in an effort not to draw attention to herself.

“As I was saying.” Charity goes on, her voice coming out like gravel. “This is a big job but with bigger rewards. _If_ … we’re all in agreement.” There’s a chorus of understanding and Charity claps her hands together in finality. “We set sail in two days.” She finishes and the chairs scrape roughly against the wooden floor as the crew disperse.

However, when Vanessa takes a quick glance around the room, she realises that not everyone has left. Billy, Marlon, Jimmy and Aaron, are still sat in their seats, remaining quiet but curious, as though even they don’t know why they’re still here. Cain just looks put out, but she assumes that’s just an expression that never leaves his face. Paddy shuffles between his feet, nervous and skittish as ever.

Charity hops down from the counter and comes to settle on the table where Vanessa’s sitting, Jimmy and Aaron following suit. “Right.” Charity starts and it’s the first time Vanessa’s ever seen her look unsure of something in front of anyone but herself. “I have a favour to ask you all, with no expectations an’ my complete understanding if you don’t want to.”

The small group glance nervously amongst one another at the captain’s words and for a moment, Vanessa considers getting up to leave, dubious as to whether or not she’s supposed to be here in the first place.

“I’ve asked you lot to stay behind today because, surprisingly enough,” Charity makes a point of glaring at Jimmy, a frown setting between her eyes. “I trust you most.” Vanessa jumps when Charity’s hand comes to settle on her thigh beneath the table and gives it a gentle squeeze. “After this job, when we drop anchor in Tortuga, I have some personal business back in Port Royal.”

There’s an audible huff of indignant disbelief from Cain who is quickly shut down with a rough shove from Paddy.

“I’m perfectly aware that none of you wanted to go there the last time, and now with the increasing protection on the town after our last visit, it’ll likely be the most difficult task I’ll ever ask you to do.” Jimmy lifts a hand weakly. “Yes, worse than the Spanish.” Charity snaps, apparently already comprehending the way the cogs had begun to turn in his head. She sighs, the fatigue unmistakeable in the exhaled breath. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

All eight of them fall into contemplative silence, the matter of the request already dawning on Vanessa as her own, the complication of Tracy and Bails.

“What do you need us to do?” Aaron speaks up, undoubtedly having already made up his mind with little issue or question as to whether or not it was even an option. Vanessa knows that the majority of crew members of the Merciless would follow Charity blindly, bending to her every order, but it sets something concrete amongst the others gathered around the small table, that Aaron has so willingly settled his mind on the matter.

Charity shoots him a grateful smile; one Vanessa knows is reserved for very few people. “We’re paying another visit to Governor Clayton.” Cain lets out another bitter scoff from behind Charity, but she doesn’t seem affected.

“You decided to kill him now?” Cain mutters with little concern for Vanessa.

There’s another squeeze to her thigh that calms the bitter taste in Vanessa’s mouth as Charity leans across the table on one arm with purpose. “His daughter,” the men all turn to face Vanessa curiously. “The other one,” she corrects them exasperatedly, “is marrying the Commodore an’ we’re gonna stop it.”

Wiggling in his seat with out of place excitement, Jimmy plants his hands firmly on his thighs and leans in to whisper uselessly to Billy. “I love weddings.”

With an aggravated roll of her eyes, Charity drops back into her chair. “There won’t be a wedding if we get Tracy out of there before they can go through with it.”

“No wedding?” Jimmy looks far too disappointed for someone who’s been listening to every word that Charity has said in the last five minutes.

“No.” Charity snaps, momentarily losing her temper. Vanessa quickly drops her hand to Charity in a hopeful attempt at calming her down before she can flip the table and pounce on the oblivious man. “No,” she says calmer this time and turns to face Cain. “She’s marrying Bails.”

To Vanessa’s complete and utter surprise, Cain’s stoic façade drops along with his shoulders and something akin to understanding flashes behind his eyes, the cold glaze over his eyes melts away and a fraction of warmth begins to emit like a pulse. It’s short lived, however, before the mask is quickly returned to its place. Despite the internal monologue she’s apparently just had the honour of witnessing, Cain nods once at Charity and then to Vanessa. A lump suddenly forms in her throat and she returns her own shake of her head in a silent ‘thank you’. It has never occurred to Vanessa that he may know just as much as she does about Charity’s history, maybe he doesn’t, maybe it’s just enough for him to understand the situation both Vanessa and Charity are in. But wherever he stands on the scale, it’s high enough that the single name brings him to submission beneath the request.  

“What’s the plan, then?” Billy asks, speaking up for the first time since the rest of the crew had vacated the building.

Charity smiles, her chest expanding in relief and Vanessa feels her own body matching the movements, with a mixture of apprehension and eagerness simmering through her veins. “We close the deal in Tortuga, let the rest of the crew get on with their own business there, and we set sail for Port Royal. The fewer of us there are, the easier it’ll be. Get in, get Tracy, get out.”

“She pretty, this sister of yours?” Billy asks, grinning mischievously at Vanessa, his eyebrows bounce up and down. Scoffing at the sight, she slaps him lightly on his bandaged shoulder. “Bet she is. Sounds easy enough,” then his eyes go wide, “the job, not your sister…”

“Anyway,” Charity speaks up again after a beat of awkward silence. “Vanessa’s assured me that she’ll be up in the house, we just need to remember to keep our heads down, avoid drawing any attention to ourselves.” She stops, waiting for everyone to nod their heads in confirmation so she knows she’s being understood then goes on. “They’ll be looking for the Merciless-”

“We can leave her a few miles up.” Cain interject perceptibly. “Make our way inland from the north, we’ll come out behind the town.”

Nodding, Charity corroborates the proposal then turns back. “Not a word to the others, okay? In and out.” They nod. “Can’t risk anything going wrong, all right?”

-

Charity’s perched herself on an uncomfortable looking wooden chair by the window when Vanessa makes her way into the bedroom that night, swiping her wet hair out of her eyes. It’s the first time in four months that she’s been able to have a bath in warm water and her muscles seem to be melting inside her body at the feeling of being completely relaxed.

The only light that’s filling the room comes from the oil lamp on the dresser opposite the bed and the moon casting a strange, ghostly blue light through the window that makes Charity look paler than usual.

Vanessa quietly closes the door behind her, trying not to disturb the other woman and makes her way over to the bed, dropping the towel to change into a soft cotton shirt that she’s claimed from Charity’s dresser as her own. It doesn’t smell like Charity, having remained untouched for who knows how long, and it almost feels too soft to be comfortable, but she throws it on anyway in favour of being warm inside the cool room. Charity’s got the window wide open, the breeze flighting across her features and unsettling her long blonde hair where it sits framing her face.

Vanessa considers climbing into bed and letting her exhaustion take hold of her, but the muscles in Charity’s back are tense, visible through her shirt even in the dimly lit room. “Charity?” She calls across the room with a tentative whisper but when she gets no reply or even an acknowledgment that she’s been heard, she throws her legs over the side of the bed, the cold wood floor cool against the pads of her feet, and she walks slowly over to the chair. “Charity…” She says again, placing her hand gently on the other woman’s arm.

Charity jerks back to reality, her eyes darting around the room in search of danger until they settle on Vanessa and the tension pools rapidly from her body. “You okay?” She asks, her voice stiff.

Vanessa nods, failing to hide the concern from the thin line her lips adopt. “Come to bed.”

Charity doesn’t speak, glancing around the room again as though she’s forgotten where she is but eventually, she wordlessly stands, letting Vanessa lead her over to the edge of the bed. She sits down slowly but the grip she has on Vanessa’s hand doesn’t go unnoticed, riling up the worry at the back of her neck. Charity doesn’t make to move again, however, and it wouldn’t surprise Vanessa if she’d easily enough fall asleep fully clothed.

“You want me to…?” Vanessa crouches down in front of Charity’s knees and gestures to her boots. Charity seems to contemplate her words for a moment, watching Vanessa with an intense gaze she doesn’t recognise before she gives a weak nod.

Vanessa makes quick work of removing Charity’s clothes, wrapping her in the bed sheet as she hurries over to the dresser to find her a shirt of her own. When she turns back, it’s to find Charity wilting to her side, head buried in the pillow and eyes closed as heavy breaths part her lips.

She can’t fight the troubled sigh but drops the useless shirt to the end of the bed, rounding the side to tuck the sheet tightly around Charity in favour of leaving the window open. It would get too warm anyway once the sun started to break over the tip of the mountain and it seems the sea air calms the other woman, even if it is laced with the scent of palm leaves and land.

It’s a while before Vanessa climbs back into the bed, unable to keep her eyes off of Charity’s sleeping form, the first time she’s taken a moment to observe the sight, something so beautifully simple, but so rare at the same time. In the end, she crawls in behind Charity and gently lays her arms across her middle, pressing her front comfortingly into Charity’s back and it’s not long before she finds sleep taking her with it.

Seconds may as well have past when she wakes up again, groggy and grumpy in a sleepy haze with something shuddering beside her and it takes her a while to come back round to reality, realising its Charity shaking. She bolts up right almost immediately, jostling Charity as she quickly wipes at her cheeks in a vain attempt at hiding her tears.

“Hey, hey…” Vanessa utters softly, reaching out with a cautious hand. “Charity.” She sighs when she flinches away.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Charity mumbles, sitting up but turns to face the window, her back to Vanessa. She stifles the hurt and disappointment well but doesn’t reach out to touch Charity again. “Go back to sleep.” Both women know fine well that Vanessa isn’t about to ignore whatever this is, regardless of how tired she is, and Charity lets out a frustrated sigh when Vanessa gives no sign of letting up. “It’s just a nightmare, I’m fine now.” She lies.

Vanessa feels the urge to tell Charity that everything’s okay, that it will be okay, but she can’t, not when she can’t be sure herself. That afternoon had been rough on Charity, she’d seen it in the way Charity’s shoulders had slumped while they ate dinner, the shadows under her eyes growing darker when they’d made their way up stairs, even when Moses tried to get his mother to play with some of his toys, her heart hadn’t been in it.

Vanessa’s own desperate need to help her sister had taken an obvious toll on Charity, too. She knows it’s too much to ask of her, to face her demons when she’s nowhere near ready, or wants to, for that matter. But that’s what it is, desperation. Vanessa has no one else to turn to.

She can see now, however, broken and fragile, that it’s too much to ask of Charity. She should have never asked in the first place.

“Charity,” She flinches away again, ready to bolt. “Wait, listen, please.” Tentatively, she shifts across the bed, coming up to sit beside Charity, leaving enough distance between them so that the other woman doesn’t feel smothered. “I’m not gonna ask you to talk to me or tell me things you don’t want to, okay?” She takes the silence as affirmation before she quickly hurries on before Charity can make a run for it. “I’m sorry,” Vanessa watches the confusion wrinkle the corners of Charity’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have pressured you into doing this, into helping me.”

“Vanessa-”

But Vanessa’s not about to stop now, she has to say this, has to let Charity know she doesn’t owe her anything. “When we get to Tortuga, I’ll find someone to take me back an’ I’ll get Tracy out, I’ll kill him if I have to but I’m not about to put you in a situation you don’t want to be in.” She’s rambling, her tongue tying with each word, but she can’t stop. “If this is what it’s doing to you,” Vanessa gestures vaguely over Charity slumped frame, stopping at the tears that still manage to escape from her glassy eyes. “Then no, I’ll go back on my own.”

Charity scoffs, but there’s no malice to it, no condescension, instead, she sounds tired and lost within her own thoughts. “And how exactly do you plan on getting there, Vanessa?” She states perceptibly because they both know she doesn’t have an answer to that. Which is confirmed when all Vanessa can do is splutter helplessly, she hasn’t thought that far ahead, and her brain is still trying to catch up through sleepy fog. “Look,” Charity finally shifts in her position to face Vanessa, their bare thighs bumping together. “You were right, I _can_ do something about this. I’m not thrilled about the idea, Ness, not by a long shot, but I have to face him whether I want to or not.” She gives an uncomplicated shrug, dismissing any argument that Vanessa might have, for Charity seems settled on the idea now. “Anyway,” She says with faux optimism. “Probably won’t see him, eh?”

They both comprehend the lie, Vanessa can see it in the subdued shadows beneath Charity’s eyes but there’s no turning back now, resigned to whatever maybe waiting for them back in Port Royal.

“I’m going to have nightmares, they’ll never go away.” Charity’s voice drops as she tugs the sheet up across her chest, shielding herself from the cool air that’s still filtering in through the open window. “But he can. What he did to me, I’m stuck with that, Ness, but she doesn’t have to be stuck with him.”

Vanessa’s not sure what the feeling bubbling up inside her is. Relief? Disappointment? She’s so tired she can’t concentrate on it long enough, not while Charity’s looking at her with big green eyes filled with so much more than she’d seen there earlier.

Charity shuffles back to her pillow, propping herself up on the headboard. “Come here.” She says, patting the space beside her. Vanessa doesn’t hesitate and settles in close to the other woman, knitting their fingers together beneath the sheets. “I’m getting too old for this.” Charity says around a chuckle somewhere deep in her throat, dropping her head to Vanessa’s shoulder.

“Hm?”

“This pirate business.” She clarifies simply. “Think I might retire.”

Vanessa laughs gently and untangles their hands in favour of running her fingers through Charity’s hair. “I know you’re a granny… but-”

“Shut up.” Charity’s laughter grows as she playfully swats at Vanessa stomach. The tension in the air shifting to something lighter. “You know what I mean. Think I’ve had enough of all that now.”

They fall into a comfortable silence and Vanessa waits for the tell tail sign that Charity’s drifted off back to sleep, but it doesn’t come instead, Charity moves beside her, straightening up slightly so she can look at Vanessa.

“’Bout time I settled down don’t you think?” The insinuation behind Charity’s words brings the tension exploding back between them but it’s not heavy and painful like it has been, now it’s stimulating, gripping and it stirs something between them; that feeling akin to the one Vanessa had felt on the couch of Charity’s cabin a few days prior, intoxicating any every way possible.

An involuntary grin parts her lips and she feels her grip tighten slightly in Charity’s hair. “That so?” Her voice comes out breathier and lower than she means it to, and Charity’s eyes immediately turn dark.

“Mhm.” She hums out, inching closer, nudging Vanessa’s nose with her own and she lets a warm puff of air ghost across the other woman’s lips. “Think I’ve gotten used to sharing a bed, an all…”

Vanessa closes the distance without another word, without hesitation, pressing Charity down into the sheets as a hunger begins to boil in her chest. “Can’t say I disagree…” she trails off when Charity’s lips find her neck and all coherent train of thought is throw out the open window across the room. “Ms Dingle.” She only just manages to stutter out the words but immediately finds herself chuckling when Charity pulls away with a gasp.

“Only Irene calls me that,” She says as her bottom lip juts out into a pout. “ _Ms_ Dingle. Makes me feel old.”

“Well you do have grandkids…” Vanessa shoots back, still laughing.

Charity pecks at the edge of Vanessa’s mouth, once then twice, before she pulls back slightly to look up into her eyes. “It’s weird hearing it sometimes.” She says, eyes growing distant again like they had been earlier, sat on the chair and staring out of the window like she wasn’t really present. “So used to Tate, now.”

“Which do you prefer?” Keeping her voice low, Vanessa tilts her head to find Charity’s eyes, silently willing the other woman to come back.

“Definitely Dingle.” She answers almost immediately and there’s no question as to whether or not that’s true. “Hated him, y’know, Chris.” Vanessa’s heart gives a strange, sort of nervous thud, behind her ribs, but she stays quiet, resigning herself to listen for as long as Charity’s ready to talk. “Was only in it for the money but…” she trails off and blinks away something that’s sitting on the tip of her tongue. “I didn’t kill him.” She adds after a beat, smiling with insincere amusement. “Or the other two, I guess it was just a game of Chinese whispers.” A bitter laugh sounds through the quiet room.

Vanessa drops down to her side, propping herself up on her elbow so she can watch Charity as she talks and reaches out to take her hand when it begins tugging at the fingers of the other anxiously.

“Worked out well for me, s’pose.” Charity laughs again but this time its genuine and her eyes come back to the present, meeting Vanessa’s. “Men are terrified of a woman who can look after herself.”

Her own amusement mirrors Charity’s in that moment and a warming sense of pride wraps itself around her heart. “You’re definitely one of those women.” She says, ducking down to press their lips gently together. “Is that why you kept the name? Tate, I mean?”

Charity shakes her head, smile widening despite the heavy conversation. “I didn’t,” she says simply, “it just sort of stuck.” Reaching up to bury her fingers into Vanessa’s damp hair, the smile quickly turns into something haughtier and she tugs lightly to pull the other woman down, closer, her next words coming out through a breathy whisper. “Dingle doesn’t sound as threatening.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that…” Vanessa drawls, ghosting her lips against Charity’s. “ _Dingle_ , sounds very sexy to m-”

But before she can get the rest of the sentence out, Charity’s flipping them with a deftly ease that knocks the breath out of Vanessa’s lungs with a start. Their lips meeting with an abrupt and frantic pace that has Vanessa’s mind clouding with a lust fuelled fog.

-

As soon as they clear the wall of fog, the storm hits again, a typhoon of hail and icy cold rain that stings ruthlessly, the trail end of summer laying way for the beginning of autumn. Waves, meters high and capped with white foam, crash down over the ship, drenching everything and everyone in its path without remorse. Anyone above deck, anchor themselves with rope, tying themselves to any surface to avoid being sent overboard as the ship sways from side to side, dangerously close to a ninety-degree angle. Those below, spend the majority of their time filling buckets with murky sea water, passing them up the stairs, one by one, to be emptied overboard in a futile attempt to relive some of the flooding.

For two days, Charity yells orders over the unrelenting howl of the storm that shows no sign of coming to an end anytime soon. Vanessa does all she can to help but the majority of the time she feels as though she’s stepping on people’s toes rather than being of any beneficial advantage to the crew. So, she does the best she can below deck, tending to those who manage to get knocked off their feet or tumble from the rigging under the force of the wind and waves.

It’s in the early hours of the third morning, the storm making it impossible for anyone to sleep, when Billy comes down the steps of the lower deck with a bloody nose and bruised eyes. “Rope snapped an’ caught me in the face.” He mumbles nasally, a filthy, soaked rag pressed to his face.

“Sit down.” Vanessa manages with an exasperated sigh, pulling out a stool in front of where she stands, catching it before it can slide off towards the other end of the room. “Keep that pressed to it.”

Billy grins up at her as blood drips from his chin. “Am I gonna lose it?”

“Your nose?” She mutters, not really paying much attention to the cheeky quip. She’s painfully aware of the water around her shins, soaking through her clothes and the heaviness in her head, eyelids struggling to stay open. “It’s not broken-”

“ _Ship_!”

Jimmy’s shriek cuts through the roar of the storm almost effortlessly and both Billy and Vanessa stare wide eyed at one another for a long moment before they find themselves jumping into action, their brains catching up slowly, too far behind their already scrambling limbs as they stumble towards the stairs, sloshing through knee deep water.

“The Queen Anne!” Jimmy calls again, shouting for anyone who will listen as Vanessa and Billy emerge into the freezing air, immediately struggling to keep their feet firmly on the deck.

Vanessa squints through the rain and the pitch black that surrounds the ship, barely able to see anything until a flicker of orange, a tiny speck in the distance catches her eye. A small crowd hurry over to where Jimmy’s leaning precariously against the side of the ship and a ripple of excitement and anticipation erupts amongst the crew.

“Hoist the mainsail!” Charity’s voice sounds from the helm, as clear as day, assertive and commanding even through the roaring wind and the crew jump into action instantly. The moment the mainsail is dropped, the ship gives a sudden jolt and the wind picks up, pressing the Merciless in the direction of the ship ahead, the force sending Vanessa tumbling into Billy. “Load the cannons!” She screams again and the sound of heavy lead thudding below echoes and vibrates through the deck.

For a second, all Vanessa can do is stand frozen, completely at a loss as to where she should be running, but then Cain screams her name and she jumps into action. “Get to the armoury!”

She does as she’s told, taking the steps two at a time and launching herself off the last couple into deep water that sprays up to her chest. Pushing her way towards the door, she clings to the beams in a vain attempt to get there faster, the sound of crew tumbling down the stairs behind her urging her on. She throws the door open with a grunt, dragging it through the steadily rising flood water.

Aaron’s first to reach her and she throws a musket and a sword into his waiting arms, handing him a small bag of dry gunpowder before repeating it with the next, a steady line forming as her muscles move of their own accord, emptying the store room mechanically until she’s left with her own sword and musket on her hip.

When she remerges again, it’s to absolute chaos but Charity stands calm at the helm, hands clutching the rudder firmly in one hand, the other holding a smoking pipe. Vanessa sprints up to join her, panting breathlessly as adrenalin pounds through her heart. “Take a look.” Charity says, gesturing to the telescope on the ledge. It doesn’t take her long to find the ship in the distance, the British flag flying, barely visible through the blackness but the dimly lit lanterns beneath cast flickering shadows across it. “We’ll catch up soon,” Charity says, keeping her eyes glued on the Queen Anne. “You ready?”

Vanessa nods and gulps around the tight lump of nerves in her throat.

“Don’t get yourself killed, yeah?” Charity says, but this time her voice is softer, a note of fear barely audible but she catches Vanessa’s eye before turning away quickly. “Keep your head down if you have to.”

“I will.” She nods surely, before reaching out to take Charity’s hand on top of the rudder, giving it a tight squeeze before she races off down the stairs to find Paddy. She figures they’ll be needed sooner or later and finds him clearing a path below deck, stacking tables and chairs along one wall like a barricade.

It all comes as a blur after that, the cannon fire deafening, screaming and shouting and the ominous groan as the Merciless scrapes against the Queen Anne… she’s not sure how much time passes but a steady flow of the crew finding their way below deck needing quick and hurried repairs tells her it’s been a while.

“Hold fast!” The Merciless gives a menacing shudder, the darkness beyond the windows explodes into a bright, burning glow of white and orange and somewhere up above, the sound of wood shattering into splinters fills the air. “She’s on us!”

The thought of not knowing niggles in her gut, not know who’s dead or alive leaving a sickening taste in the back of her throat. She feels helpless stuck down here, Paddy seems to have everything under control, and she’s left hovering in a corner waiting for something to happen. The war zone erupting around them sets her on edge and she finds herself rubbing her blood-stained hands nervously across her face until Paddy shoves her in the direction of the stairs. “Go on, before you give yourself an aneurism.” He orders knowingly but she’s flying off towards the stairs before he can get his words out, drawing her sword.

Another crack of cannon fire and the resulting shudder over the ship has her stumbling forwards. Vanessa barely has a chance to take in her surroundings before a sailor in a red navy jacket comes hurtling towards her, screaming bloody murder with his sword raised high above his head. Muscle memory has her arms jumping into action before her brain can think to do so, a clash of metal against metal rings in her ears and she shoves him away with a gasp, swinging the sword round quickly, just as Charity had taught her and she catches the top of his thigh, blade sinking in deep. He lets out a wail of pain and drops to the deck with a heavy thud. Vanessa kicks him firmly in his chest and he collapses into a heap on his back.

She lunges over the top of him, round the edge of the ship quickly and spots Jimmy holding off another two men. “Where’s Charity?” Screaming to be heard of over the commotion, she presses her back into Jimmy’s side as the second assailant rounds on her. Her short height gives her the advantage she needs along with the thick waves of smoke that ghosts through the darkness, and she coils forwards, jabbing the blade of her sword into his side, knowing it’s none fatal but enough to hold him off… just as another blade appears as if by magic alongside her own, this one higher and central.

“Watch yourself.” Cain grunts, yanking his sword out of the man’s back and turns around, heading towards the helm.

“Not since they boarded.” Jimmy grunts out, slamming the guard of his own sword into the face of his opponent, an uncomfortable sounding crunch emanating from the mans temple before Jimmy grips his coat in his hands and throws him overboard.

The storm goes unnoticed as she fights her way through the crowd of the Kings Navy, pirates and sailors swinging from above, hopping from ship to ship. There’s a thick cloud of gunpowder filling the air, white and misty that fights its own battle against the rain. Cracks of gun fire and clanking metal mixes with the shouts and screams and it’s all Vanessa can do to hold off another man, twice the size of her and ten times as strong. She manages to duck and dodge most of his blows, getting in a few of her own here and there, but she hears the sleeve of her shirt tear and a sudden burn races down her arm.

She slips on the soaking deck, losing her balance and she stumbles back into the mast, landing amongst a stack of singed and unravelled rope. “I won’t enjoy doing this.” His deep voice booms above her, rough and low with the obvious lie when he points his sword at her throat. But just as Vanessa readies herself for the sting of a slice, the ship rocks precariously against another onslaught of cannon fire, barrels and debris flying across the deck and it’s all the distraction she needs.

“Lucky for you,” Vanessa winces when the muscles in her hand tense around a trigger. “You won’t have to.” A deafening bang makes her flinch as sparks and a thick white cloud ruptures in front of her face, blinding her for only a second, but when it clears, the space in before her is empty, the huge body of the man lays in a crumpled heap beside her feet. “Christ.” With a shaking hand, shock and god knows what else drowning her from the inside out, she wipes at the sweat on her forehead and takes in a painful breath. Her lungs feel tight and burn when she inhales mouthfuls of smoke and sea water.

It’s when the ringing in her ears stops and she feels like her legs are strong enough to hold her weight, that she stands just in time to see a blur of blonde hair whirr past her, swinging from a rope from the mainsail. There’s no question in Vanessa’s mind as to who it is.

Charity lands on the deck with a deftly thud, the blade of her sword skewering a nearby soldier effortlessly. “You good?” She calls over her shoulder to Vanessa, giving her a quick once over when her eyes do a double take on the crimson liquid streaming slowly from her arm.

Quick to reply, all too aware of the battle going on around them, Vanessa manages to get her words out before she has to duck a stray cannon ball. “It’s just a cut, I’m fine.”

“We’ve got this.” Charity hurries towards her, grabbing Vanessa by the crook of her elbow and pulls her towards the rope she’s just used. “Cain and Paddy are over there already.” She says, pointing her sword at the Queen Anne. “Keep your sword out. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Before she dashes off towards the remaining stragglers – allowing herself a moment to scan the war-torn ship, finally noticing the lack of red coats amongst those still fighting – her lips to catch Vanessa’s securely in her own and Charity makes sure Vanessa’s gripping the rope securely and gives her a hard shove off the edge.

“Head down!” She only just catches Charity’s warning before she gasps, the air hits her so hard in the face that her lungs remain void of oxygen until her feet skim across the deck of the Kings ship and she slides to a halt. She drops the rope, stumbling across the slippery deck but a pair of strong arms catch her in time.   

“Easy does it.” Paddy lets out a breathless laugh as he rights her. “You all good?”

The majority of the crew have boarded the navy ship, scattered about the deck and bellow, she guesses, pillaging and raiding as much as they can. “Yeah.” Vanessa says but her attention is drawn to the injured men who have found themselves slumped together at the far side. “What about them?”

“They’ll live.” Paddy mutters, wiping his hands down his thighs while the pair settle down on a set of stairs, he brings up a dirty rag and holds it to a gash on his neck. “We got what we came for.” He says after a moment of almost deafening silence, the fight on the Merciless seems to be steadily coming to an end, the remaining soldiers moving in slow motion against Charity and Cain. It’s hypnotising, a distant flash of what had happened in the tavern in Tortuga emerges in the back of Vanessa’s mind, but that had been nothing compared to what she sees now.

Charity’s always seemed impossible to Vanessa but watching her fight like this, black shadow streaked across her eyes, dark coat and blonde hair flowing behind her, she’s never looked more ethereal, more angelic than she does now. She moves effortlessly the way she does spent wrapped up with Vanessa beneath loose sheets during sleepless nights.

It takes Vanessa a moment to remember how to breathe, so lost in Charity’s beauty that she doesn’t notice the ledger held securely in Paddy’s lap until he pats his hands down onto the leather-bound cover with a relieved sigh.

“That’s what this is all over?” She blurts incredulously, unable to hide the disbelief from her voice. “A bloody book?”

“Well… it’s a ledger…” Stuttering, Paddy tries to explain as though its importance is obvious.

“I can see that.” Vanessa snaps when the pain in her arm choses that moment to flare up. She winces, reaching up to flatten the palm of her hand over the laceration.

Putting the ledger down between them, Paddy moves to crouch in front of Vanessa and pulls out a, remarkably, dry piece of gauze, wrapping it around the wound before tying it in a tight knot to hold it in place. “We’ve been promised a lot for this, the ship, too.” He says eventually. “Don’t know what for, myself, but that doesn’t stop us from taking everything else.” He adds, waving a gesturing hand across the pile of loot gathered together at the edge of a plank linking the two ships.

When all Vanessa can offer up is a disapproving glare, Paddy gives an unsettled sigh as Cain lets out a cheer of victory, the rest of the crew are quick to follow suit, standing to fire shots into the air in celebration while Charity tosses the last of the British soldiers over the back of the ship.

The excitement is contagious, and Vanessa’s annoyance quickly dissipates as she grins up at Paddy, who claps her affectionately on the shoulder, oblivious to the twinge it shoots down to her wound. In comparison to the rest of the crew, however, she seems to have escaped relatively unharmed. The groans of pain from those slumped on the deck of both ships, with missing limbs and pools of blood… she’s lucky.

“Fetch it over gentlemen!” Charity shouts from her usual position at the helm of the Merciless, battle scared with thin streaks of blood and covered from head to toe in gunpowder and dust.

The crew jump into action, once again following their captain’s orders as they form an assembly line across the plank, one by one loading their loot onto the Merciless with a tone of triumph hanging like electricity in the air. A chorus of a sailor’s shanty starts up, droning above the sound of the wind and waves.

Vanessa finds herself joining in, humming along as she effortlessly ties connecting lines to the Queen Anne. “Cain.” Charity snaps suddenly, a ripple of pause working its way across the plank like a virus. Everyone freezes, following Charity’s hard stare towards the horizon, the sun rising steadily behind the two ships like a streak of lightening.

She doesn’t see it at first, whatever has everyone so on edge, the excitement fizzling into nervousness.

“We’ve been set up.” Cain snaps, barking out his fury.

It’s then that Vanessa notices five black pin points, something silhouetted by the sun in the distance, painting the sky with a burning red glow.

Realisation dawns on her painfully and her blood runs ice cold.

“Paddy, keep Vanessa there.” Charity begins growling out orders almost immediately. “Cain, stay with them.”

Vanessa’s got no idea what’s happening until Paddy’s pulling her back onto the navy ship, away from Charity who remains statue still at the helm of the Merciless. Jimmy, Aaron, Marlon and Billy all follow Cain and Paddy, leaving the rest of the crew to take their places in front of Charity.

“What’s happening?” Vanessa can hear the panic in her own voice despite the roaring rush of blood through her ears. “Paddy, what-”

“They’ll be looking for the Merciless.” Charity’s voice sounds from only a few feet away. She’s standing at the edge of the ship, pained expression twisting her features, but she can’t seem to make eye contact with Vanessa. “I’m going to head them off, Ness.”

“I’m coming with you.” Vanessa makes to climb the railing and attempt the jump back to Charity, but Cain grips her injured arm tight enough to make her submit under the pain.

Charity’s shaking her head, eyes glossing over at the same point her bottom lip gives a visible shudder. She catches it before anyone else notices, but Vanessa’s seen that look too many times not to spot Charity’s tells. “You stay with them, they know the plan.” She says surely and somehow manages to muster up a weak smile as if she doesn’t know that Vanessa’s heart’s shattering into tiny, raw pieces in her chest. “Vanessa,” she says, waiting for Vanessa to look up and meet her eyes. It’s all she can do not to let a painful sob break through her weakly held together pretence. “I’ll be right behind you. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Why can’t he go?” Vanessa whines. She tries to shove Cain away from her, towards the Merciless but he doesn’t move, standing his ground with his grip like a vice. “ _Charity_.” The pleading desperation goes ignored by Charity, purposefully turning her hard stare on Cain, unblinking with her own despair.

The impending dread that ices over her insides when she discerns the way Charity’s eyes flash apprehensively to the fleet on the horizon has her surrendering despite every cell in her body screaming at her to keep trying, keep fighting against Cain’s hold on her and Charity’s apparent dismissal.

“Stick with this lot and I’ll see you in Tortuga.” Charity speaks with so much surety in her words that Vanessa almost believes that everything’s going to be okay.

Almost.

“Stay two days at the most. If I’m not there before then, you get Tracy out of there and you kill that bastard.” Charity’s eyes aren’t on Vanessa anymore, they’ve turned hard and stone like, her face steely calm as she fires orders at Cain, leaving no room for question or argument. “Ness.” She says again, but this time nothing follows, whether that’s because she’s unable to speak or has nothing left in her to say, Vanessa isn’t sure.

She loses her fight against the sob the second Charity turns her back and her legs give out beneath her.

-

Cain seems confident enough, almost two weeks later, that they’re not being followed by the fleet of British Navy ships, but Vanessa’s so out of it, so consumed by the burning feelings of grief and loss, that she doesn’t have enough energy in herself to care about anything else. She hides away from her newfound crew for day’s that drag by achingly slow and does her damn hardest to avoid any and all contact with Cain if she can help it, wallowing below deck.  

She wakes up early, mostly because she struggles to sleep in the first place, her battle for sleep becomes habitual as though her mind is waiting for the dip of her bed at her side, for the muscular arm to circle around her waist… it never comes, so, instead, she cleans the deck – the storm having past days ago. She helps prep food for Marlon before he emerges from his hammock, before the sun has risen but after that, she creeps her way back to a small room that she’s sure is either an exceedingly elegant holding cell or quarters that once belonged to someone who was just, perhaps, as important as the captain. She doesn’t care much, staring blindly out of the unstained window that looks out onto the choppy sea below.

After that, however, everything that could go wrong, does.

They run out of fresh water with the majority of food stores and barrels having ended up on the Merciless, the small crew resorting to the minimal reserves of rum and stale bread left in the captain’s quarters.

Vanessa’s not sure if the haze she finds herself existing in is dehydration, exhaustion or intoxication. She finds herself laughing alone to herself one night at the very thought when it’s pitch-black outside and the last of the candle stick has burnt out beside her bed, a self-pitying mantra echoing on and on in the forefront of her mind.

Charity’s gone.

Their food is waning.

And with a short temper, she finds herself snapping more and more to those who chance a visit to her hideaway.

The damage to the ship after the battle is more extensive than they first realised, and so Billy and Jimmy spend most of their time futilely patching up holes in the hull, a constant flow of water filling the lower decks until they become uninhabitable.

While the Merciless would have been easily sailed by a crew of seven, the Queen Anne is something else, twice the size with double the crew capacity, resulting in an inability to effectively keep it together, especially in their exhausted and drunken states. 

Paddy spends half his time spilling his guts over the side of the ship while Cain screams at him to get his act together. The bickering and fighting only escalates the longer they’re stuck on the ship together and any shred of hope that Vanessa has left in her, quickly vanishes along with her sanity.

She’s never going to see Charity again, she’s never going to get her sister away from Bails and she’s resigned herself to the fact that they’re probably all about to die of starvation.

Her mood is only worsened when she realises her knife had fallen from her belt during the fight, the last remaining physical peace of Charity she left with her, tangible and real, lost with it.

Nearly a month in, Vanessa’s drifting in and out of a nightmare fuelled sleep late one night as the Queen Anne rocks gently on the sea, when a blunt bang against her door wakes her. “Wrong room, Jimmy.” She snaps, tossing onto her side to face away from the door, willing the images of death and violence from the inside of her eyelids, but before she can close her eyes again another bang disrupts the second of peacefulness she naively hopes will last. “What do you want?” Vanessa has long since given up on hope that there’s a chance of Charity waiting for her on the other side of the door.

When she swings it open against her better judgement, ready to slap whoever’s come to bother her, she stops short when the towering body of Cain steps to block the light behind the doorway. “Found this.” He grunts, holding out an orange that’s probably long since seen its better days.

She hesitantly takes it from his hand, her mouth turning into a thin line. “Thanks.” When he doesn’t show any signs of leaving, however, she lets out a sigh and retreats to the cold bed in the corner of the room. “What?”

Cain takes his time responding. He wanders aimlessly around the bleak space like he’s trying to think how best to say whatever’s on his mind before he settles on a stool by the single dresser on the opposite end of the room. He starts picking at a finger and it reminds her, with a sickening bout of anger, of Charity. “You okay?”

“Get lost, Cain.” Without thinking, she hurls the orange at his head with as much force as she can manage. He catches it smoothly and gives her a pointed look that drains any remaining fight left in her. “Why’d you agree to this?” She asks after a beat of silence, fingers tangling in the hem of her shirt to keep herself occupied. When it doesn’t seem as though he’s about to reply, Vanessa lets out an indignant huff and looks up to meet his own, cold eyes with hers. “Why would you want to come with me instead of-”

Vanessa’s voice cuts off in a choked crack of breath as the stinging imagine of Charity’s face flickers before her eyes, as real and palpable as if she were right in front of her. It sends a burning rage through her blood that settles with a sour taste in her mouth, gritting her teeth down hard, the skin of her cheeks breaking with a painful sting. Cain, someone she’ll confidently swear hates her down to the last bone in his body, sits real and arrogant in her room while Charity… It’s something she doesn’t want to understand. This loyalty between a captain and her ship. Vanessa doesn’t want to admit that this was Charity’s decision, to leave her, to send her away with Cain. She can’t, because she knows that the moment she concedes to her acceptance, will be the moment she breaks.

“Dingle code.” Cain mutters simply as if it’s as good as an explanation as anything. But when Vanessa feels the anger bubbling as hot as ever high in her throat, he slumps in his chair. “He deserves to die for what he did to her.” The irritation with which he spits his words surprises Vanessa despite her better judgement, causing her to straighten defensively. “I’m not doing this for you.”

Realisation dawns on Vanessa in an instant, cold and heavy, extinguishing the last of her fight. Cain couldn’t care less about saving Tracy, couldn’t give a damn about Vanessa. But he knows, understands even, what Vanessa means to Charity. He’s doing this for her, taking his revenge on her behalf, if only to ease some of her pain. And if that means helping Vanessa, too…

She’s thankful for anything she can get.

Cain loves Charity, as the mother of his child and as family, that much is clear in the softening of his eyes. At least now they share some common ground within all of this chaos.

“Tortuga’s a day’s sail.” He states dismissively, dropping his eyes down to the orange which he begins to peel. Vanessa knows that somewhere in the back of her mind she feels relief but there’s still too much anger and betrayal firing like pistons in her gut. She knows its selfish to feel abandoned, that Charity was doing what had to be done to keep them protected, but selfishness is all she has left, and she clings to it like it’s her only lifeline. “She’ll be there.” He says it in a way that makes her think he believes his own words and it surprises Vanessa that he’s even envisaging the notion of talking to her, let alone reassuring her. After six months of living together on the Merciless, he’s never offered up more than a grunt, hasn’t _ever_ looked her in the eye. But now his gaze is locked with hers, almost like he cares.

This is it. She thinks. _I’m dying_.

“She promised, din’t she. An’ our Charity doesn’t break a promise.” A long time ago, Vanessa probably would have felt an immediate bout of jealousy rearing its ugly head, but in that instance, she feels that flame of hope flicker back to life, faint, but it brings some existence back to her, a step closer to lucidity, because Cain’s right. ‘Our’ Charity. They both understand her better than most, had the pleasure of being gifted such an opportunity. “She’ll get your sister out of there.”

And with that, Cain stands, leaving the peeled orange on top of the dresser before he walks out of the room like they haven’t just had the longest conversation they’ve ever shared.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was exhausting to write

“Keep that heading.” Cain instructs as he climbs back up the steps to the helm to join Vanessa and Paddy. Her muscles burn deep between her shoulder blades down to her wrists, but she manages to keep a firm grip on the rudder, doing as Cain instructs and keeps it steady.

From above where the three of them are standing, Billy, hangs from precarious rigging with a bottle of rum in hand while he ties up some of the sails. “Call me a drunk, but would it not make more sense to head straight to Port Royal?” He asks despite Cain’s indignant huff. “I just mean, we’ve got the Queen Anne _and_ the red coats, no one would suspect us, right?”

“No, because six pirates and a woman masquerading as soldiers wouldn’t look at all suspicious.” Cain quips with dripping sarcasm as he lights a stolen cigar.

“How would they know we were pirates, though?” Billy swings from the beam, drawing a frightened gasp from Vanessa but he makes the landing with an effortless ease and brushes his hands down the front of his shirt.

Vanessa grits her teeth, silently willing herself to believe it’s because of the strain in her arms and not the fact that everyone seems to have forgotten who they’re supposed to be waiting for. “We’re not going anywhere until Charity’s back.”

“You all seem to be... forgetting,” Paddy suddenly speaks up with a prominent nervousness to his words, “that we were double crossed by Graham.”

“He always was a slippery bastard.” Cain’s eyes train on something hard in the distance and it doesn’t need explaining to Vanessa that he’s waiting for the first sighting of Tortuga. “I’ll kill him.”

Vanessa doesn’t doubt him but choses to stay quiet, keeping her eyes glued to the same spot as Cain, dead ahead, and wills for the familiar shadow of land to appear on the horizon. It’s a glimmer of hope that fuels the flame burning in her chest, a mirage, a step closer to being reunited with Charity.

That seems to be the only thing that keeps her standing. It’s an odd thing to feel, she thinks, having this unadulterated need to have one person by her side. But it’s not the first time. No. She’s felt this before, only once, when her son was pulled from her uncomplying arms and taken away from her against her will.

“Land!” Jimmy’s voice emanates from the bow of the ship, the alert pulling Marlon and Aaron up from beneath and the three of them rush up to the helm to join the rest of the small crew.

Still startled from the outburst, Paddy holds his hand over his chest and pulls in a calming breath. “Do you need to shout every time?”

Jimmy shrugs, confused. “The captain never complained about it.”

“Not to your face.” Vanessa scoffs and adjusts the wheel slightly before she ties it in place, the knot memorised from countless nights with Charity explaining diagrams from the small book that still sits securely in her back pocket.

The relief floods through them almost immediately, fresh water, food, _land_ …

It’s short lived, however, excruciatingly so.

As land grows closer, with it comes the view of the harbour and a feeling of familiar ice-cold blisters through Vanessa’s body when recognisable flags fluttering in the wind, an unwelcomed greeting, catch the light of the sun.

“No… no, no.” She thinks she hears Paddy whimper from somewhere beside her and it’s all she can do not to let her legs give out beneath her, a tight block forming in her throat, struggling to gulp down the wrecked sob that’s threatening to break free. 

Everyone’s silent for a long moment, willing the other to make a decision first. Carry on with their planned heading, risk their chances with the British navy once again in hopes that Charity turns up within the next two days.

Or, head for Port Royal and get Tracy out while they have a chance, with no food or water to get them through the next week.

She knows what they have to do the second the options flash behind her tightly closed eyes.

“Put those coats on.” The authority and assertiveness to her own voice startles even her and she’s not surprised when the men turn to gawp at her with matching disbelief etched into their features.

“ _You what_?” Aaron laughs incredulously. “They’ll kill us.”

“He’s right, Vane-”

“You said it yourself, Billy.” She turns with pleading eyes, beseeching someone to take her side on this but she keeps her voice steady and the surety evident. “No one would suspect us.” When he doesn’t offer up a response, she spins on Cain, her last hope.

Oh, if Charity could see her now.

“We’ve no water, no food.” She keeps her eyes locked to his and she’s positive she must look like some sort of wild, feral animal. “We can risk being caught, or we starve to death out here.” She pleads helplessly, but she knows if it comes down to it, she’ll dive straight of the side and brave the swim to shore. “ _Cain_. What other choice do we have?” He must understand the route her train of thought has taken because something changes in his face.

“Do as she says, then.” He commands like they’ve ignored a direct order from their captain. It takes a moment but then everyone begins moving, the rumpled pile of red coats that have been tossed to the side after the battle are handed out between them while Vanessa holds her place at the helm.

In the brief moment of silence that she’s granted, she releases a shuddering breath, one that finally causes her legs to slump under her weight. Her hand flies to her mouth to stifle a cry of what she thinks is a poisonous concoction of fear, frustration and exhaustion. “Everything will be fine.” She mutters to herself, but her voice has lost its previous weight, the strength it held replaced pathetically with a tremor. “Get up.” Her body doesn’t seem to be able to move, however, frozen in a crumpled heap like the red coats on the lower deck. “Get up…”

“Gotta keep a brave face on.” The sound of Cain’s gravelly voice comes from behind her and before she can reply, a hand is gripping her elbow and hoisting her to unstable feet. “You can’t let ‘em know there’s somethin’ wrong.” He says and the proximity of the harbour seems to be looming with an imminent threat.

“What’s our plan?” Paddy, Aaron and Billy regroup at the helm, their red coats looking odd and mismatched but there’s nothing that can be done about it now. They’re pirates, that much will be plain to see the moment they step foot onto solid ground, but mixed in with a crowed?

They can only hope.

Suddenly, all eyes are back on Vanessa when Jimmy, Aaron and Marlon stumble into their circle. What is their plan? She’s not had the chance to think this far ahead and the mounting pressure turns her brain sluggish until her mouth starts speaking for her. “Irene.” It’s where Charity would go, she hopes, the moment she sees the harbour.

They all look at her cluelessly, everyone but Cain, who nods in immediate understanding. “Right, let’s get ready, then.” Not bothering to elaborate any further. She’s not sure how much of Charity’s personal life is known to the crew but by the looks of their blank expressions, she figures they’re in the dark when it comes to things that involve their captain.

For the swift pace in which the harbour creeps up on them, the time in which it takes to dock the Queen Anne without drawing too much attention to themselves seems to drag by impossibly slow.

When the anchor drops and the ropes are tied down on the dock, Vanessa feels a swarm of nervous butterflies erupt within her stomach and she has to stifle down the urge to throw up stale bread and rum.

“Keep it together.” Cain grunts under his breath as the seven of them walk the short distance down the plank and find themselves unnervingly on solid ground. Vanessa feels lost without the gentle sway beneath her feet, but follows Cain, Billy and Paddy flanking her side while Marlon, Jimmy and Aaron cover her back. It’s a believable cover, for ‘ _what woman would be seen walking around in a uniform of the king’,_ the sound of her mother’s voice rings disapprovingly in the back of her mind, a memory of dressing up in her father’s clothes when she was barely aware of the rules of the society she was being raised to abide by.

Tortuga holds a completely different feel to it now, as they wander up the beach, trying with each step to act as though they have a purpose. Soldiers flank every corner, every pathway with their rifles pressed to their shoulders.

The street that had once held a bustling market is now void of any colour but red. The brothel to her left, closed and empty of life.

It sets Vanessa on edge.

“What’s going on?” She mutters through a hushed breath at the back of Cain’s head, trying to keep her expression blank as they make a quick turn down a narrow road when suspicious eyes turn their way, wandering into the open square where Charity had asked for Vanessa to join them during their meeting with Graham.

She all but stumbles into Cain’s back when he comes to an abrupt halt in front of her, the square packed with soldiers and members of the public and if it were possible, Vanessa quickly begins to feel more exposed.

“A state of emergency has been declared for these territories by decree of Lord Marcus Bails, duly appointed representative of our majesty, The King.” Vanessa recognises the face of the man speaking up on the stone steps where she once stood bickering with Paddy, the sun blazing down painfully into her eyes and obscures any clear vision. Graham, it’s the drawl of his words that gives him away. “By decree, according to marshal law, the following are temporarily amended…”

“I thought you said he was the commodore?” Aaron hisses from behind her, voicing the question weighing heavily in everyone’s mind.

“He is.” She snaps but then hurries to correct herself. “ _Was_.”

It’s then that she notices Bails himself, stood just off to the left off a podium where Graham is stood speaking, an older woman beside him, blonde with resting expression of indifference. She doesn’t need to ask, Kim Tate leans to whisper something into Bails’ ear and he smirks, serpent like with a hiss of laughter that carries through the quiet. “How do we get to Irene?” Cain asks, voice raising in volume as the crowed around him erupt into a mixture of what she assumes to be feigned excitement and support for the man in question.

Vanessa’s eyes are glued to Bails as he takes his position and gazes out across the crowd. “Through there, head east, then it’s on the other side of the hill.” Their eyes meet for a brief second, barely even noticeable if she hadn’t been waiting for it to happen. But it sparks her into action and she gently shunts Cain forwards. “We need to go now, though.”

Cain gives a subtle nod and begins to lead the way around the edge of the square, following the route Paddy and she had taken months ago, using the shade as cover. It gives her a fleeting opportunity to scan the steps, searching the group of officers for any signs of Tracy. Vanessa’s heart falls with a crestfallen thud when no such sight catches her eye.

Somewhere through the pounding of blood in her ears, she can hear Bails speaking about King and Crown, something about law and order but the gap between the building she remembers from her walk with Charity comes into view ahead of Cain and she gives out a hurried whisper of, ‘ _there_.’ They speed up, desperately trying to make it out of the crowd without drawing any notice to themselves. It feels like hours, weaving in and out of stalls and bystanders, ducking away from soldiers, and with every step, Vanessa has the disconcerting feeling that they’re being watched.

They’re less than a yard away, about to break into a sprint, when two soldiers’ step into their path and cross their rifles, barricading them in. Her heart stops and with it, the pounding in her ears. Silence follows, realising that Bails has stopped speaking, she lets her eyes flicker towards him.

She does a double take when his absence at the podium sends a bolt of confusion and fear rippling down her spine, the space replaced by Kim.

Cain makes the quick decision before anyone else has a chance to realise what’s happening, reaching down for the musket on his hip.

His arm is abruptly stopped with a jerk, however, and the seven pirates all look up in unison, coming face to face with Bails, his hand clutching Cain’s wrist in a vice like grip, exposing the branded ‘P’ on his skin.

“Took your time.” Bails snarls, his malicious eyes fall to a frozen Vanessa and a vicious sneer twists around his mouth, drawing the colour from her face. “You’ve made a lot of people unhappy, Vanessa. Running away with _pirates_ , did you even think about your dear sister?” His words flow like poison, sending a repulsing shudder rippling through the cornered group, soldiers swarming like flies from all directions. Bails drops Cain’s wrist only to replace his grip like a vice around hers, yanking her shirt sleeve up to expose unblemished skin beneath. “I see you’re missing something.” There’s no oxygen in her lungs, a searing burn forming in her throat around a tight lump and a sudden cold chill settles in the air. “We can fix that.”

-

After outrunning the hurricane on their way to Tortuga, it almost seems hilarious to Vanessa now, that upon their returned arrival to Port Royal, the irony of it catching up after their capture seems fitting. She doesn’t feel the sting of the rain, or the freezing force of the wind as it gusts into her skin with an unrelenting force. In fact, she doesn’t feel much of anything in that moment, as she’s thrown into the back of a cart alongside Billy and Paddy as they’re paraded up to the holding cells that surround the gallows.

Vanessa hasn’t had room for feeling since Tortuga. Bails has a way for it, she thinks, of sucking all hope and emotion from a body within close proximity.

When he’d presented the warrants he just somehow happened to have on his person, for the arrest of the crew of the Merciless, she hadn’t been surprised. However, when he’d then followed through with her own, she felt the last flicker of that burning flame of hope extinguish with a pathetic defeat. It hadn’t been painful or substantial, even… it had just ceased to exit. 

One trap after another.

She’ll go insane, she knows she will, if she thinks about those cold eyes and that steely expression much longer. It ebbs away at the last of her resolve, seeping into wounds she hopes would have healed by now. But the fresh burn on her wrist seems to be a gateway for Bails to keep infecting every inch of her from the inside out.

She hadn’t screamed but let the glowing white rod hiss against her wrist, the sift skin had sizzled and a revolting smell of burning flesh had burned her nostrils. The only signs of pain she showed, were the thick, hot streams of tears that flowed freely from her eyes, sliding along the bone of her jaw where they had dripped to her collar bone uselessly.

There’s no reason for him to have branded her, not when they were due to be hanged days from now… It was a personal act of enjoyment, she knows this for certain, his gleefully icy eyes emblazoned to the forefront of her mind.

Still, when she finds herself coming close to the point of breaking, there’s a flicker of emerald green somewhere in her mind that echoes down to her heart like a remedy. She holds onto that with a desperation she’s never felt before, allowing it to snowball into something akin to faith that brings her back to reality, it almost keeps her head above a rising tide.

There’s a chance, she has to remind herself, that Charity and the rest of the crew on the Merciless have survived and that somehow, they’ve managed to make it to Irene without any problems.

Charity will find them.

She repeats it like a mantra.

Over and over.

Charity will find them before it’s too late, before they make it to the gallows.

Charity will find them, and they’ll save Tracy.

The cell she’s tossed into late that evening is cold and damp. “It’s no captain’s quarters, but look,” Paddy pipes up with an absurd amount of cheerfulness to his words, pointing to the ground. “There’s a bed.”

Aaron and Vanessa look down to the soaking wet straw heaped into the corner and grimace.

“Oh, come on.” Paddy whines. “If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Billy snaps from the next cell over, looking more distressed than she’s ever seen him before, pail and sweaty. “But we’re dead mean walkin’. I don’t think it matters if we cry or not.”

-

Three days pass of constant bickering between the men, fatigue and hunger along with being in such close proximity of one another seems to play a big part in it, but Vanessa remains quiet, tucked away in the far corner until they drift off to sleep.

That’s when she stands, paces the cell a few times, aimlessly, before she slumps back down into the same, curled up position she’d started. It’s a helpless repetition she finds herself trapped in.

Waiting.

She’s never been good at it, but it’s all she can do.

Wait for death.

Wait for Charity.

Vanessa’s just finished her second lap of the cell, precariously stepping over Aaron as he snores, sound asleep on the floor when a door opens somewhere down the corridor, metal and wood clanking with a resounding echo. She slouches against the bars, draping her arms through the gap to try and get a better view, readying herself to hurl some form of abuse at whoever comes close enough.

The low flickering light cast by the burning torches makes identifying the person difficult, not that she needs to, though, the guards often make a quick round of the cells at night and she expects to find a red coat illuminated by the flames.

What she doesn’t expect, however, is a woman, clad in a creamy dress with blue lace trim to be accompanying one.

“ _Tracy_?”

The name leaves Vanessa in a rushed breath of complete disbelief as her sister shuffles awkwardly down the narrow corridor. She blinks rapidly, willing the exhaustion to stop playing tricks on her, even rubs the palms of her hands into her eyelids until sparks erupt in the darkness.

When she blinks again, however, low and behold, Tracy is stood in front of her cell, _beaming_.

“Hey, V.” Tracy’s voice gives a light shake as tears well in her eyes and Vanessa all but throws herself at the bars, trying to reach out to pull her sister into a hug.

Tracy winces at the sight of Vanessa through the cell bars, her appearance thrown into relief beneath the flickering torch light as the soldier steps back. She doesn’t care to imagine what she must look like, however, she can feel the majority of it anyway, her boney cheeks and chapped lips, matted hair and grime coated skin…

“Oh my god, you’re here.” She moans but she’s not sure if it’s with relief or worry. “Why are you here?” Vanessa amends quickly, pulling back from the awkward embrace that’s more metal bars and aching angles than physical contact.

Tracy wipes at a trailing tear, grin wobbling dangerous. “I heard Mark talking and…” she fails to stifle a sob and Vanessa reaches out to clutch her hand tightly in her own. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Vanessa makes a point of looking around the cell and turns back to face Tracy with a wry smile. “I’ve been better.” She says, reaching down to clutch at her wrist that’s been badly bandaged up with a shred of her own shirt. The brand beneath gives a painful throb, something she’s managed to ignore until now.

“That’s true.” Tracy says around a wet laugh. “You’ve looked better too.”

Vanessa always a broken smile to pull at her lips, cracking under the movement. “What are you doing here?” She says again, this time with a little more force.

“I had to make sure you were okay, V.” Tracy supplies but her eyes flicker to the side nervously, remaining on the guard for a little longer than is probably necessary, her hands come up to lay on top of Vanessa’s and that’s when she sees them. “I can’t stay, though.” Bruises, red, purple and angry.

“Trace-” Vanessa can’t get the words out quick enough before Tracy is yanking her into another hug, pulling her into the metal bars painfully.

“Take this.” She whispered hurriedly into Vanessa’s hair and she feels something hard press into her hip. She reaches down, feeling a cool blade against her fingers, the handle of the knife one she knows well. “Just wait for the signal, yeah?”

Tracy pulls away quickly and smiles at the guard who eyes her wearily.

“What…?” Shaking her head in confusion, Vanessa can only watch as Tracy walks away, lead back up the corridor by the soldier.

“I love you, Vanessa.” It’s the last she hears as the door slams shut, louder this time, rousing her crew mates from sleep.

-

The signal.

Vanessa rubs hard circles into her temple, clamping her eyes shut as the men whisper hurriedly.

The knife.

She can feel the blood rushing to her ears with the anger and frustration, the hatred for that man and what he’s done to Tracy.

The bruises.

“Did she say anything else?” Cain asks quickly, crouching against the side of the cell to get closer to her. But all she can do is shake her head. Mind racing.

She’d left her knife on the Merciless.

“She gave me my knife an’ told me to wait for the signal.” Vanessa repeats, her mouth spilling the information of its own accord now, the words ingrained on her tongue like a song.

“You didn’t have that on the Queen Anne, did you?” Vanessa isn’t sure who speaks but she shakes her head wordlessly.

Charity’s here.

They all seem to come to the same conclusion together, the tension between them all rises and falls at the same time.

Charity made a promise and she hasn’t broken it. 

“Does this mean we’re saved then?” The hopeful rise in Jimmy’s voice is what snaps Vanessa out of it.

A chorus of hushed protest follows, and Marlon slaps his hand quickly across Jimmy’s mouth. “Do you want to have us killed right here?” Cain bites angrily. “Because we will be if you don’t keep that mouth of yours shut.” He nods with wide eyes until Marlon releases his grip and Jimmy heaves in a deep breath of air into his lungs. “There’s nothing we can do now.”

“So, we just sit ‘ere an’ wait?” Aaron’s disgruntled response fails to calm the fear in his words, and it occurs to Vanessa that he’s steadily losing his composure.

She reaches out through the air between them and wraps her hand around his in an effort to calm him down.

“Captain’s orders.” Cain mutters with a shrug, dropping his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, his arms crossing over his chest with an air of peacefulness that infuriates Vanessa. “Wait for the signal.”

It’s later that day when their cell doors are hauled open and they’re dragged to their feet. Vanessa’s managed to slide her knife up the sleeve of her shirt, the tip tucked precariously into the makeshift bandage on her wrist. No one checks her like they do the rest of them, thoroughly frisking Cain and Billy down to their boots, paying her little mind.

There’s no question as to where they’re being led, and a remorseful silence falls upon them despite the biting hope that niggles like a whispering voice between them. They join a long line of prisoners, faces of some, Vanessa recognises from the voyage from Tortuga, other’s she’s seen in Port Royal, before Charity and the Merciless.

Grown men begin to sob and cry when they’re led out into the court yard. With hands tied behind their backs, they march out into the pouring rain to the beat of the drums rattling through the pound of Vanessa heart. The crowd stays silent, the prisoners weaving their way through until they come to a stop at a raised wooden platform.

Vanessa’s stood between Cain and Billy, Paddy, Aaron, Marlon and Jimmy behind them, but their positions make her painfully aware of how close she is to the front of the line, to the four nooses hanging before her.

Vanessa looks up, remaining as inconspicuous as she can, letting her eyes travel over to where she knows Bails and Tracy are stood along with a small group of soldiers. Her father’s nowhere to be seen. “That her?” Billy whispers from behind and she nods in response, a jerky sort of movement. “She  _is_ pretty.” Billy leans close to her ear, his front pressing slightly into her back. It’s a chance, she realises, to slip the knife out of her sleeve, drops it past the bandage on her wrist and begins to press it into the ropes that bind her hands. She’s got no idea what she’ll do if she frees them, it’s not like she could fight off the Kings Navy with a pin sized dagger, but it doesn’t stop her, she won’t let it.

The first four men are led up to the gallows and the drums stop with a sudden silence. Vanessa wills her eyes to remain on Tracy, holding her sisters stare with a desperate need to not witness her own fate. A voice begins to speak but it’s drowned out by the rain and the rush of blood behind her ears.

Tracy looks terrified, pale and clammy but she doesn’t once pull her eyes from Vanessa’s.

The signal. She’s no idea what it is or when it will happen, but the thundering of her heart in her chest wills it to come soon.

A layer of rope gives way and the tightness around her wrists slackens.

The thunder of the drums makes her jump as they start up with a quicker pace and she knows what’s coming next. She clamps her eyes shut tightly when the drums stop for a second time and the sound of wooden trap doors collapsing fill the silence.

“Keep it together.” Cain whispers roughly, catching the sound of Vanessa’s gasp so close to him. “Wait.” He says with exuding surety to his words.

Vanessa doesn’t have a chance to reply however, because there’s a soldier gripping her and Cain by the arms and leading them up the steps. It’s the jostle of her arms that supplies enough pressure of the rope around her wrists to the knife up her sleeve. The rope snaps and she grabs it just in time, before it falls to the ground, and keeps her hands clasped firmly together around the blade, the edge slicing into her palms with a painful burn.

Her legs wobble and threaten to give out beneath her but the noose that’s smoothly placed around her neck gives her an unnerving support to lean on. The crowd bellow her stare up with blank expressions, passively watching the show that’s being provided at the crew’s expense.

Vanessa scans the area, frenziedly searching for blonde and emerald in the sea of faces.

Nothing.

No Charity.

“By decree of lord Bails,” the voice who’d spoken before comes louder and closer, sending freezing shivers through her bones as they’re sentenced. Her teeth begin to chatter. Vanessa keeps hurriedly scanning the crowd. Palms oozing bloody, the knife begins to slip. “All persons found guilty of piracy, for aiding a person convicted of piracy…”

_There_.

Faith, she remembers her face clearly and then she spots green eyes, green eyes that don’t belong to Charity but a young man, blonde hair like the captain’s and a sharp jaw line to match.

There’s no question in Vanessa’s mind who the man is.

Noah’s eyes catch hers and he gives her a reassuring nod. It’s all she can do, to not let the relief show on her face, but she flexes her hands behind her back, the handle regaining its secure grip in her palm.

They’re here, somewhere scattered amongst the crowd.

All they have to do is wait for the signal.

“…associating with a person convicted of piracy and crimes against the crown. Your sentence is to hang by the neck until death.”

“Noah’s here.” Vanessa croaks out the side of her mouth, the words flowing to Cain on an almost silent breath and he follows the line of her eyesight.

Cain gives a curt not. “Wait.” The drums start up again and the shooting pain of fear settles in every bone within Vanessa’s body.

It happens fast.

“Do the condemned have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?”She knows she’s shaking but she keeps her eyes hard on Noah, flickering up to Tracy just as her sister flops to the ground, collapsing with exaggerated flail that knocks Bails to his side.

Gasps of surprise and shock ripple throughout the crowd as they all turn to see the commotion up on the wall where Tracy lays whimpering on the ground.

“ _We answer to no crown_!” Noah screams out. It spurs Vanessa into action just as the floor beneath her feet falls through, she reaches up with her knife and slices the rope around her neck.

She catches herself before her feet can hit the ground bellow her, screams erupt amongst the court yard as all hell breaks loose. Vanessa’s hoists herself to her feet with a grunt and throws herself towards Cain, cutting the rope around his neck before it kills him. She turns quickly to do the same with Paddy and Billy but finds their places empty, Noah having already climbed the podium during the commotion and cut them free.

Noah grabs her arm, yanks her from the platform and shoves her towards the wall where the six crew members of the Queen Anne have congregated. They’re yanking swords from a burlap sack that looks to have been hidden beneath a bale of straw. “Vanessa.” Noah says in a hurried greeting, a crooked smile tugs at the edge of his mouth and he gives her a nod. “Nice to meet you.” She grabs the nearest sword, tugging a musket to her hip and then follows him through a narrow archway in the wall, sprinting up a set of stone steps.

“Where’s Charity?” She gasps breathlessly, blocking a sudden blow from a red coat who lunges at her with a scream.

Noah crosses his sword with Vanessa’s forming an ‘x’ that snags the soldiers blade between theirs and he thrusts out his foot, catching the other man between his legs. They jump over the crumpled body and continue their fight up the stairs. “She should already be up there.”

His words give Vanessa that extra jolt and she finds herself hurtling up the last remaining steps, swings her swords from left to right almost manically as soldiers close in on her. She’s not sure how Noah and she manage to fight their way through them, but they do with a hazy blur of realization, and they suddenly find themselves standing in an open room that leads to the ledge where Tracy and Bails had been stood watching the gallows bellow.

“Let her go.” Charity’s voice pours from her lips like gravel, demanding and assertive and the sound brings Vanessa and Noah to an abrupt halt with a mixture of painful relief that coils around her gut. “Bails.” She warns but Vanessa catches the waver of fear in her voice.

“Tell your pets to back off.” Bails demands and its then that Vanessa notices how close he is to the edge, Tracy pressed to his front while he holds his dress sword to her neck.

Charity turns to face Vanessa and Noah, her features breaking out into a weak smile of relief before she turns back to Bails with a steady nod, holding her hands in the air as she ducks to place her sword on the floor. “There,” she says, kicking her sword away.

“Them too.” He snaps, jutting his head in Vanessa and Noah’s direction. He’s got no backup, the soldiers scattered across the floor remain lifeless on the ground in front of him, but he’s got a shield.

Noah moves to copy his mother, but Vanessa feels the anger burning in her throat down to the brand on her wrist, her hand tightens the grip on her sword, her fury drowning any sense of liberation she feels at the sight of Charity, alive and here. She came back to save her, to help, but all Vanessa can see is red. Hot and suffocating.

“ _Now_.” Bails barks again. She could run him through right now, charge at him and end all of this. But he’s still too close to the edge and the blade of his sword turns Tracy’s skin white where it holds a forceful contact to her throat.

Furiously, Vanessa hesitantly lowers her sword to the ground and kicks it away and it slides towards Charity’s.

“Let her go.” The unadulterated anger she hears fall from her own mouth surprises even her, and she notices the slight flinch that etches across Tracy’s features. Unsure whether it’s because of her voice or the blade against her throat, she isn’t sure, but she becomes painfully aware of the anger raging through her and the knife and musket on her hip.

Bails seems to assess his current position, outnumbered and backed into a corner and for a long, terrifying moment, Vanessa’s worried he’s not about to let Tracy go unscathed. But he suddenly shoves roughly against Tracy’s back and she tumbles to the ground with a cry of pain. He steps backwards from the ledge, hand wrapping securely around a flag rope, he slides down the length of the wall, landing with a thud into the pile of hay below.

Vanessa finds her legs hurling her body towards Tracy before her brain has the chance to catch up and she collapses to the ground beside her. They’re clinging to one another for dear life, Tracy sobbing helplessly into Vanessa’s shoulder as she feels her own tears begin to flow in hot trails down her cheeks. A mumbled stream of “thank god,” and “we’re safe,” trickles from Tracy’s mouth, muffled against Vanessa’s skin and all Vanessa trusts herself to do is cling on tight with bloody hands.

“How ‘bout we get her to the ship?” Charity’s voice sounds soft and thoughtful from behind Vanessa and a gentle hand comes to rest warmly on the base of her spine, easing her up off the ground while Noah rushes over to help Tracy to her feet.

Vanessa, feeling the blissful relief washing over her, bringing with it a returning wave of emotion that floods her body like a tsunami, waking it from what feels like a deep slumber, throws herself into Charity’s arms, her feet coming up off the ground for a brief second. Charity holds tight. “You came back.”

“Of course, I did.” Charity says with an amused sigh, dropping her lips to Vanessa’s. “Promised, din’t a?” Vanessa lets out a wet laugh and nods, dropping her forehead to Charity’s as she breathes in the familiar scent of rum and tobacco, feeling at home once again. “’Cause I love you, Ness.”

With a mixture of disbelief, a sudden welling of affection and relief, Vanessa lets out a choked sob and crashes her lips into Charity’s once again, only pulling away to mutter a wracked, ‘I love you, too’ against her mouth. She clings on to Charity for dear life, feeling the other woman dragging her hands up and down the length of her body as though she’s trying to reassure herself that Vanessa’s okay, that she’s alive and unharmed.

“What’s that?” Charity suddenly asks, however, when Vanessa reaches out to take her hand, a desperate need to feel more of Charity’s skin against hers and she winces, catching her wrist.

She’s noticed the burn on Vanessa’s wrist however, blood seeping through the makeshift bandage, and the brief calm that had appeared on her face is quickly replaced by wrath that matches the insides of Vanessa’s mind. “Did he do that?” She barks, eyes drawn to the oozing ‘P’ on her wrist, holding the backs of her hands, palms up to inspect it further. The deep incisions from her own blade make the sight worse than she knows it is.

Some of the fight is jerked back into her and Vanessa regretfully pulls away. She can’t unsee the pain that had been evident on Charity’s face for so many nights that had been spent curled up in her room, the cries of anguish, the nightmares… Vanessa had seen it all, witnessed every moment of it.

It’s red and its hot and there’s nothing in that moment that can stop the ugliness of it from spreading like cancer through her insides.

He doesn’t just get to run away.

Not like this and especially not after everything he’s done.

“Get her to the ship.” Vanessa growls, snatching her sword up off the ground before she finds herself falling the short drop to the ground below, grunting as the flag rope tears at the cut on her right palm and ignoring all shouts of protest that follow her. She’s hurtling off through the fighting crowds without sparing a glance towards the battle between the crew of the Merciless and the soldiers in red coats. Instead, she flies after Bails’ retreating form, racing down towards the harbor.

“Vanessa!” She hears Charity scream her name from somewhere behind her but the blood racing through her limbs can’t bring her to stop, not even for her.

She crashes down the steps leading to the harbor, flying unceremoniously into a stack of barrels that all come crashing down around her. The noise is enough to draw Bails to a stop and he turns on the spot in the middle of the dock, eying her smugly as she climbs to her feet and stalks towards him.

“Come on Vanessa.” He calls over to her, making no move to reach for his sword. “You’re not going to do this.” Bails lets out a smug, merciful laugh. “Not after everything I’ve done for your family.”

“Abusing my sister?” She spits, her boots echoing ominously against the wood beneath her feet.  

“I was talking about giving her status,” he muses, pressing the tip of his finger into the insignia on his uniform mockingly. “Saved your father from the gallows, too.” Bails tips his head back and a loud, billowing laugh, sounds through the cold air, rain still pouring around them when Vanessa makes the mistake of allowing her confusion to show on her face. “Oh, she didn’t tell you, then?” Vanessa remains quiet. “It’s punishable by death to associate with a pirate now, as you’re very aware. So, when I found out about Governor Clayton’s dealings with dear Charity…”

There’s a clatter of feet from behind her and she turns in time to find herself nose to nose with a bayonet, clasped to the end of a soldier’s riffle, a group of them following suit behind.

“Stand down.” Bails says quickly. “I gave him a choice, see, face the gallows or go back to England.”

“You’re lying.” Vanessa snaps hotly.

“Do you see him here today?” He spreads his arms wide. “Jumped on the first ship he could, left Tracy behind, he’d long since given up on you, the both of you.”

Vanessa’s rage reaches boiling point and she throws herself at Bails with her sword high in the air just as a clap of gunfire erupts from further up the harbor and flames suddenly engulf the dock in an explosion of gunpowder and shrapnel. The eruption sends the red coats flying backwards, the force enough to kill them instantly, and Vanessa propels forwards. Her sword meets soft tissue, skewering Bails’ shoulder who lets out a wail of pain.

“You _bitch_.” He grunts, kicking her to the ground as fire burns like an inferno behind him.

The world spins around her, ears ringing with a high-pitched sound that sets her off balance as she struggles to climb back up to her feet, stumbling and hands and knees. “Get your sword out.” She orders with as much authority as she can muster, channeling the memories of Charity at the helm of the Merciless. She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, tightening her grip on her sword, she steps forwards.

Vanessa can hear the distant scream of her sister but above the roar of the fire that’s beginning to engulf the ship to her right and the hammering rain against the sea, she struggles to make out anything other than the conversation between Bails and herself.

“Sword!” She snaps again and this time Bails obliges.

He matches her step for step until their less than a couple of meters apart. “You’re no pirate.” Bails slides the edge of the blade along Vanessa’s, seeming to revel in the metal ring that emanates from the contact. “Be a coward and turn away, it’s in your blood.” He’s baiting her. Urging her to strike first, to slip up and make a mistake.

“You’re the only coward here,” she snarls, “Pushing women around to make yourself feel better.”

Something twitches at the edge of his eye, something evil and twisted and it makes the hairs on the back of Vanessa’s neck stand on end. “She always was a liar.” Bails spits his words with so much venom that it leaves no doubt in Vanessa’s mind who the liar really is. “Loved the attention, she’s sick, Vanessa, she-”

The crash of metal against metal silences Bails’ words, cutting them dead in his throat. Vanessa drives her sword forward, shoving it hard against his until he stumbles backwards. Astonishment etches into his features that remains for a second before he rounds on her hastily.

The bare skill she’s gained throughout her time with Charity must surprise him, because he stumbles for a short period before he regains himself, matching her and they fall into a deadly dance. She fights through the burning pain that sears through her muscles in her arms and back, willing her to stop, to lay down in the puddles on the ground and just give up. But she knows she can’t, this needs to end… one of them will die today.

The rain comes down harder now, forming a slippery layer of salt water and rain on the decking. Vanessa sees her chance, Bails loses his footing ever so slightly and she does it. She lifts her sword and strikes it down with purpose, it clatters against Bails’ and he lets out a disgruntled groan as he fights to push against her attack.

Vanessa’s so focused on laying all her weight into it that the blood curdling scream filling the air causes them both to falter and her sword clatters to the deck.

She’s frozen on the spot, her muscles feel abruptly heavy like stone and she realizes with jolt of fear, that its she who’s screaming. When she looks down, it’s to find Bails’ hand, clutching her own dagger in his fist, buried to the hilt within her stomach.

“I warned you.” He grits through bared teeth, yanking the dagger from her body and she slumps to the floor, knees thudding hard against the ground beneath her.

His sickening laughter falls on deaf ears, Vanessa clutching at her stomach in vain as thick, crimson liquid, seeps through the gaps between her fingers. She doesn’t feel the pain until he steps over her body, unaware she’s even collapsed to her side until she feels cold water soak into her hair and shirt.

The edges of Vanessa’s vision blur and darkens in a helpless attempt to follow him with her eyes, but he’s stepping towards the flames ready to leave her in a crumpled heap on the ground, gasping for breath that feels as though it causes more harm than good. She’s struggling to draw breath into lungs that feel flattened by a heavy weight above her, burning and stinging with each attempt.

Vague shadows behind the burning wreckage flicker in and out of view but she can’t will her eyes to stay open, Bails towers above her. “You should have left yourself to the noose.” He says and the knife in his hand is raised above her, his pupils turning red and blown, reflecting the flames around them in unrecognizable eyes.

It’s fitting, she thinks even as she feels herself slowly seeping in and out of consciousness, that he emulates the devil so acutely. Despite all the troubles along the way – her body feels strangely warm despite her surroundings – Charity had kept her promise and she’d saved Tracy, saved her from this monster that no longer holds any resemblance of a man.

But not only that, she feels a faint smile pull at the corner of her mouth, Charity had saved Vanessa too, showed her a whole other world, one she’d never dreamed could exist, not for her anyway. Charity showed her what a life without fear of her father, of the world she’d once existed in, was like. Vanessa had felt real, true and untainted love for the first time in years and it fills her, even now, with warmth and affection for the other woman.

“ _Vanessa_?”

She’s not scared. Not anymore.

The memories she’s created over the past six months wash over her with a comforting friendliness, blanketing her as her eyes finally flicker closed. She lets the thought of Charity fill every inch of her and the knowledge that Tracy will be safe settles her on the verge on unconsciousness. Vanessa welcomes the warmth with open arms, willing it to carry the pain and cold away.

Her foggy mind barely registers the crack of a gunshot and a weak body that slumps with a muffled thud beside her. She wonders if the warm hands that cradle her are just her imagination, something compelling her to an unknown end.

Her heart beats like a funeral drum in her ears, weakly thrumming out the seconds until deaths inpatient grasp will surely carry her off into nothingness.

“ _Ness_ …”

Vanessa greets the glimmer of hallucinations behind her eyelids with another crooked and broken smile, sure they’re some act of god or a dream that’s brought on while her life slowly ebbs away.

But despite the slow pace to her heart, time around her seems to be speeding by, pulling her too quickly away from this world. She doesn’t want to die. Every breath she painfully inhales, seems precious somehow, with the taste of salt in the cold air, the heat of the flames against her skin, it’s all so unbelievably precious: and to think, that people have so many years to live, days to waste, all Vanessa wants is to cling on for a few seconds longer, to see those green eyes one last time…

Impossible scenes of a small child, one she recognizes immediately to be Johnny, flash like memories before her. Her Johnny, but he’s so big now, and she wonders if maybe it’s Moses she sees, but she feels herself grinning anyway. He’s got Kirin’s nose and jaw, her eyes and smile. He follows behind as she floats through thin air, a cold breeze ghosting across her hot skin… his tiny hand reaches up to take hers, feeling as real as she had felt that morning in the cell, alive.

There’s a drone of voices that hover at the edge of her senses like whispering thoughts. “ _Mummy will be okay_.” She hears one voice say and it makes the smile grow lazily on her face as though she’s intoxicated.  “ _Noah, take him with Paddy_.”

She keeps a gentle hold on the hand in hers, wanting to stay fixed to this moment before its ripped from her reach. Vanessa relents and allows the murky weight in the back of her mind to envelop her completely.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is. I'm feeling pretty sad that this has come to an end. I've spent a lot of time throwing everything I had into this and I'm so unbelievably grateful for the support from ramblingsofagaysain and from the lovely feedback from everyone on here. I'm going to need something to do with myself so if anyone has any prompts, hit me up on Tumblr under the same name as I have on here, or DM me on twitter, RainbowArmour.   
> Again, thank you everyone.

Charity spends the majority of her time pacing the deck, craving the need to retain her sanity anyway she can, barking out orders and insults to keep her mind occupied and away from the bubbling anxiety deep in the pit of her stomach. She’s got her hands full with those that Noah has brought onboard with him, having taken the men on as extra crew when she’d stumbled across him in Tortuga harbour, abandoned and betrayed by his own brother. At that point she’d been beyond the point of reasoning, grabbing Noah by the scruff of his neck and hauling him back to the Merciless, the anger and fear pumping through her veins like acid as her conversation with Kim Tate rang like funeral bells when fresh realisation had dawned on her… Vanessa had been taken.

The situation with Noah’s men adds to her current predicament and she finds herself grinding her teeth in order to keep her anger at bay. Noah joins her up at the helm in the early hours of the morning, just as his mother, he needs to keep himself busy. “Paddy’s got the kid.” He says when he sidles up alongside Charity at the rudder.

“I know you’ve already told me, but…” Charity trails off hesitantly, choosing to take a purposeful sip of the wine she’s got sat beside her as she mulls over her words with care. “You didn’t like… kidnap him or something, did you?” She winces when her son lets out a disgruntled sigh, snatching the bottle from her hand.

“No.” He says but before he can take a swig, Charity slaps it from his grip with a pointed glare. “From what I know, he’s got no family left.” Noah hoists himself up onto the ledge behind the wheel and begins to swing his legs. “His dad died on the crossing to England just after he was born, and he’s been passed around from ship to ship since.” He says with a shrug, completely unaware of the impact that the story has on Charity. Her heart sinking with a heavy sadness.

“Tracy thinks he’s Vanessa’s.” Charity explains with a tone of deep regret. “He’s got her necklace, apparently it was her mum’s.” She rubs at her forehead as the daunting realisation sets in.

“Why-”

“It’s a long story, kid.” She says hurriedly, waving off his questions. “Look,” She needs a change of conversation. “Can you get those mates of yours under control?” Charity waves her hand towards the bow of the ship where a group of men are huddled together, whispering under their breaths. “Cain’s already tried throwin’ two of ‘em over the side an’ I can’t say I disagree with his reasonin’.”

Noah lets out a huff as he jumps back down to the deck. “I’ll sort it.”

“Yeah well, you’ll be doing us all a favour.” She snaps, regretting it the second it happens. She can feel a coil tightening around her stomach, as though her body’s waiting for something to happen, a final impending doom to fall upon the crew of the Merciless. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Noah grunts and makes as if to leave but stops short of the steps. “I’m sorry about Joe and Graham too, I didn’t think they’d do that.”

Charity’s quiet for a moment, letting her teeth grind together with anger at the mention of the two men who had betrayed Noah and herself, who had put them all in danger, had tried to kill- “It’s good you’re more Dingle than Tate, init.” She says, trying to smile. “Never could trust them lot.”

“I came to warn you, got through the fog on me own and everythin’, but Debbie said you’d already left.” He says with a deep voice that still surprises her now. He’s growing up too fast for her to keep up and for a second, she feels like he’s slipping through her fingers like smoke. “Figured you’d head to Tortuga anyway, so…”

“Smart arse, you are.” Charity teases, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s a good thing you found us, when you did, those red coats needed sorting out.”

“We make a good team.” Noah grins, his lips fighting the movement out of embarrassment.

She hooks an arm around his shoulders and pulls him tight into her side. “We do.”

-

Charity leaves Cain bickering up at the helm with Faith and makes a beeline to the hatched steps that take her deck, knocking hesitantly on Paddy’s door. It opens a moment later, and shifting from foot to foot, she smiles in greeting at Tracy who’s got Johnny resting on her hip. “Evenin’.” She says timidly, still unsure as to how she should be acting around Charity.

“I was wondering if you want to come see her with me.” Charity says awkwardly, shoving her hands into her pockets. “She’s awake.” She adds quickly a second after.

It’s only been a week since they’ve left Port Royal, but she’s constantly feeling on edge waiting for Vanessa to wake up. Paddy’s done a good job stopping the bleeding and even made sure she wouldn’t be left with an ugly scar. But the week’s dragged by painfully slow and her worry and anxiety hasn’t helped matters.

She’s made time to see Tracy, however, between pacing the deck and fussing over Vanessa, even spent a morning with Johnny, just the two of them. He’s still too young to understand what’s happened to him or what’s been going on while he’s been here on the Merciless, but he seems content nonetheless, happy to be with Tracy and Vanessa even when she’s sleeping through an alcohol induced state. ‘It helps the pain,’ Paddy had tried reassuring them to little avail.

It’s been an unexpected week, emotions running high, pistons firing in all directions. For one, they’re on the run now, all of them. As a result of Bails’ death, a warrant’s been sent out for their arrests, falling directly from the King himself. Tracy and Vanessa included, both known killers after their escape in Port Royal, the death of a high-ranking official sparking the fuse that spreads like wild fire back to England. The unexpected week that none of those aboard the Merciless ever thought they would live to see…

“Sounds good.” Tracy says, giving Johnny a gentle bounce on her hip. “Shall we go see mummy?” she asks, and he nods, oblivious to what she’s really asking him, another woman, another ship with its questionable crew.

Charity gives a grateful nod and steps aside for Tracy to follow her through the galley. “Does he look like him, then?” She speaks up when they clear the crowded room, feigning ignorance when she spots Tracy smiling shyly in Billy’s direction. “Kirin?”

“She told you?” Tracy asks, sounding not at all surprised. “Yeah, a bit. If it weren’t for V’s eyes and her mum’s necklace though, I wouldn’t have realised.” Charity nods in understanding and relief, because she’s worried, of course she is, about bringing this child to meet Vanessa without any surety as to who he really is. It’s all been fine and well while Vanessa’s been out of it, the concoction of pain, alcohol and exhaustion had left her in a state of confusion and disorientation, so much so that she can barely remember her own name without being prompted. But now, having asked to be weaned off the alcohol, she’s become lucid and comprehending… Tracy must understand because she slows to a holt and reaches out for Charity’s arm. “I’m positive, Charity. This is Johnny.”

“I just-”

“I know, me too.” She quickly interjects but her smile is genuine, and it eases some of the worry building inside of Charity’s throat. “Noah said he goes by Johnny, as well, that was before we knew…” Charity can see that Tracy knows her argument doesn’t mean much, but even she can’t deny the likeness he shares with Vanessa. “I wonder where he’s been…”

Charity smiles as they climb up to the deck above. “Noah found him in Ireland, mentioned something about the East India’s, too.”

Tracy gawps, eyes bulging comically, and the sight makes Charity laugh. “Seen the world, haven’t you?”

Johnny scrunches his face up, paying no attention to Tracy as he fiddles with the small, empty locket on his necklace. “Boat.”

“I’ll try not to take that as an insult, eh, Johnnybobs.” Charity says, hesitantly holding her arms out to take him from Tracy. “This is a ship.”

He climbs between the two women willingly, letting out a giggle as Charity’s long sea curled hair tickle his cheeks. “Big boat.”

She purses her lips, but she can’t fight off the smile that has her cheeks aching in response. “That’ll do I s’pose.” Charity gives him a gentle squeeze, drawing another giggle from his tiny body. “You want to go see your mummy now?” She asks in a light, airy voice.

“Mummy, yeah.”

-

She lets Paddy pour the golden liquid into her mouth, fighting the burn in her throat to gulp it down excessively, letting it run down her chin and into her shirt, the pain in her side numbing almost immediately as the heat spreads through her stomach.

Vanessa slips in and out of consciousness so much that she’s hardly aware of how many days pass, or if it’s even days at all, it could be hours for all she knows, still none the wiser in her constant drunken state.

What she does know, however, is that she’s safely back on the Merciless. It’s the familiar smell of books, burning wax and Charity that gives it away first, before her eyes are strong enough to open, left heavy by the weight of her injury. But when they do, for the first time, she cries and sobs with a mixture of relief and exhaustion that ebbs through every inch of her body.

Through the haziness, she catches trails of conversations, whispering by her bedside. The majority of the time it’s just Charity talking to her when she thinks she’s sleeping, other times there’s others in the room. Tracy, Paddy, even Cain on one occasion.

“She did a good job while you were gone.” She hears one evening, when the candle light flickers above her, casting long shadows of Charity and Cain’s silhouettes.

“Not bad luck then?”

“Could give you a run for your money, tell you that.”

She falls back into a dream state before she can hear Charity’s response.

Vanessa’s thinks it’s the next morning when she’s jostled awake. “Sorry, sorry…” It’s Charity, the sound of her voice sending shocks of bliss through her chest and she tries to smile, think’s she smiles. “Did I hurt you?”

All she can manage is a weak shake of her head but squeezes Charity’s hand when it slides into hers. She feels detached almost, as though she’s floating above the scene. Vanessa knows Charity’s holding her hand, can feel it, she thinks, but at the same time, she can’t. She’s so completely detached from her body in that moment, that the world around her feels like a dream state.

“Tracy and Johnny are coming to see you soon, you think you can stay awake?” The disappointment hits her like a kick to the gut. She’s still dreaming, of course she is, but she allows herself the moment to enjoy it as though it were true and grimaces again despite trying to smile with a broken nod.

Screaming with pain when Paddy comes to clean her wound hours later, painfully sober and all too aware of surroundings, she clings to Charity’s hand as her vision blurs and feels the bile rise in her throat. “Stop, please.”

“Can this not wait?” Charity asks desperately, stroking the sweaty hair from Vanessa’s forehead, leaning in close as she lowers her voice and whispers gently into her ear but the sound falls like static, drowned out by her own screams and the rush of blood to her temple.

It feels as though he’s plunging another knife into the wound, over and over again until she eventually passes out from the pain.

Vanessa pleads for sleep to come most days, because that’s when she sees Johnny, this little boy who she knows is hers, knows she made him… he smiles up at her sometimes like he knows who she is. It’s painful most occasions, when the reality of the past four years becomes evident but most, it’s as though it had never happened.

She dreams about him falling asleep against her uninjured side and revels in the short moments until the dream comes to an end and she falls back into the darkness behind her eyes.

Nevertheless, there’s something in the back of her mind, a niggling thought or an inclination that’s telling her not to brush this off as another hallucination. That she _knows_ , without question, that these dreams are much closer to reality than she’s willing to admit, too afraid of the answer she might get if she asks...

It’s a few days later when she rearranges the pillow behind her head, wincing around the dull pain that twinges in her stomach but manages to sit herself in an upright position for the first time. Her muscles and bones ache at the feeling of being used again, but she welcomes the sensation with a proud smile, knowing it’s a sure sign that her body is finally healing the way she needs it to be. Charity had offered her a drink before she’d left to get Tracy but she’s curious to see how long she can go without needing it. The alcohol dulling the pain but numbing the rest of her.

Anyway, she’s sick of feeling too intoxicated to make decent conversation and she wants to see Tracy, talk to her properly. It’s been a week of pain and alcohol and the boredom that accompanies it has her craving fresh water and a coherent interaction instead. Vanessa needs to make sure she’s okay, safe and unharmed.

Charity’s retrieved  _The Merchant of Venice_ off the shelf for her to read earlier that afternoon and she flicks to the page she last left off. It’s a brief moment of normalcy where the events that had transpired in Port Royal can’t touch her.

She’s always felt safe and untouchable around Charity and now that she’s finally back and that bite of anxiety is gone, she’s left feeling whole again, even with a hefty wound in her stomach. It’s the first time she’s felt content since she found out who Bails really was and it settles thoughts of a real future comfortably in the forefront of her mind. ‘I love you’ and ‘ready to settle down’ flutter from her brain down to her chest, she doesn’t realise she’s silently grinning to herself until her cheeks begin to ache a few minutes later and she’s brought back down to earth with the sound of muffled voices outside the door.

Vanessa’s sober enough and lucid enough to recognises the voices instantly. Charity and Tracy, talking quietly together just outside of the door, but they’re not talking to each other. Their words remain soft and gentle as though they’re talking to a child, she’s heard Charity talk this way to her own son, to Moses while they visited, and the thought causes a jolt of electricity down to her heart where it lingers with a tingling sensation that has her bandaged hands flexing around the edges of her book in anticipation, the pain echoes down to the wound on her side and she flinches. But she’s already tossing her legs over the side of the bed, the flare of dreams pounding at the forefront of her mind and it’s so vivid and strong that the persistent discomfort in her side ultimately goes unnoticed.

It was a dream, it has to have been. All of them seem so impossible, so implausible, there’s no way…

The door opens gently at the same moment Vanessa feels all the air leave her lungs in one, cold breath that’s clawed up her throat.

Charity and Tracy seem oblivious to the internal fight between wonder and disbelief that seems to be embracing Vanessa. They step into the room smiling and laughing between themselves and Charity gives Johnny a jovial bounce on her hip, drawing a long giggle from his mouth.

Vanessa doesn’t mean to let the sob break through her composure, but it’s the full force of reality washing over her that has her grip on the world slipping. It’s all real, but she can’t quite believe it despite it being laid bare before her, genuine and tangible. She knows his face, can see pieces of herself and Kirin in his features, even her mother in the way he smiles crookedly across the room.

Charity comes to an abrupt stop beside the couch, her face turning to concern when she spots the hot tears trailing down Vanessa’s cheeks. “Ness…?”

All Vanessa can do for a long moment is gape in complete astonishment at the boy in Charity’s arms. Her mouth moves soundlessly around words she can’t seem to speak aloud and the pair in the doorway take a hesitant step forward. “He’s…” she croaks out. “He’s real?”

There’s a ripple of confusion that passes between Charity and Tracy until understanding dawns on them. “Of course, he’s real.” Tracy says sympathetically as she drags a stool over to the side of the bed, Charity carefully placing herself on the edge beside Vanessa. “It’s Johnny.” He wiggles comfortably in her lap.

Vanessa finds herself turning to Charity for some sort of validation, something to reassure her that her own eyes aren’t betraying her. The other woman smiles softly, her eyes warm and caring as she sits Johnny between them and reaches for a small chain around his neck. “He looks like you.” She says, barely above a whisper, “an’ he’s got this…” it’s enough to have a fresh wave of tears streaming down her cheeks and a painful sob shakes her body violently.

“I’m sorry.” Vanessa says quickly, waving off their worried advances as she finally turns to face her son. “He’s so beautiful.”

“Gets that from his mum, I’d say.” Charity says indisputably as Johnny’s big blue eyes meet hers and his lips stretch into a smile. He carefully climbs to his feet on the bed and stands in front of her, bringing his tiny hands up to her head to hold himself steady.

“Hello.” Johnny says with a childish air of seriousness that pulls another wet sob from Vanessa’s throat, but she feels her own wobbling lips pull steadily into a smile and she brings a hand up to cup his lower back.

“Hi.” She says back, holding his gaze until he flops down into her lap with a heavy thud that makes her wince. Charity and Tracy jump up quickly, but she shakes her head. “I’m fine, fine…” It comes out as a wheeze, but it must be enough to reassure them, and they settle back down cautiously.

“Noah found him.” Charity explains after a long beat of silence, Vanessa content with just watching Johnny, taking in every movement and flicker of emotion that cross his features. She listens closely to the story that Charity retells until Johnny drifts off to sleep against her chest, his hands clinging to her shirt tightly.

“Can he stay in here tonight?” Vanessa whispers late that evening once Tracy has retreated back to her own room.

“Yeah.” Charity says, running caring fingers through Vanessa’s hair while her other hands clamped in Johnny’s, his grip secure around Charity’s thumb. They’re slumped against the headboard with Johnny fast asleep between them, snoring softly, a quiet purr of a sound. “How’re you feeling?”

But Vanessa turns to face Charity with pools of tears forming in her eyes again, one hand holding Johnny’s, the other clinging to Charity’s shirt. “You brought him back to me.” She says, pushes through, despite the waver to her voice. Vanessa shakes her head in disbelief, tears spilling down her cheeks. It still doesn’t feel real, even with his hand warm in her own.

“Ness, that wasn-” Charity goes to protest but Vanessa leans across and closes the gap between them, pressing her lips firmly to hers.

“I wouldn’t have found him without you, Charity.” Vanessa whispers. “I wouldn’t have anything left, without you.”

It’s the truth, and they both know it. She admitted so a long time ago, that Charity had saved her in so many ways and she’s willing to stand by that statement until her last breath. She wouldn’t have found this life, wouldn’t have her sister with her, safe and unharmed and she most certainly wouldn’t have been reunited with her son.

“I love you.” Charity says, cupping Vanessa’s cheek in the palm of her hand as she swipes at the last of her tears with her thumb and Vanessa feels the doubt and insecurities disappear with them. Charity has always been good at bringing levity to the heaviness that she allows to overwhelm her. “So much, Ness.”

“Good.” She says a little shakily around the bliss she feels pumping through her veins. “Because I love you too, don’t I.”

-

Johnny throws a tantrum that puts Moses to shame when the time comes to board the Merciless again, he’s been so caught up playing in the sand on the beach at Tortuga, swept clean of British soldiers, that when Vanessa moves to pick him up, a distraught scream begins ringing across the harbour as he tries to decide whether or not he should be clinging to Vanessa or trying to claw his way free to continue his game in the sand.

It breaks Vanessa’s heart, that she can’t seem to sooth him, that she doesn’t really know how to. But she whispers soothing sounds into the side of his head until he stops trying to pull away, her own frustrations calming somewhat when she catches Charity gazing across the beach at the pair of them, waving Vanessa back to the docks.

It takes some time, but he eventually settles, curling up against Vanessa’s chest contentedly where she’s set on the deck at the helm, Irene and Ryan set a few feet away while Charity takes hold of the rudder, steering them out into open waters. Vanessa’s got the small book open by her thigh, knotting the rope in her hands to keep her son occupied as he watches with intent eyes.

“How’re you feeling, love?” Irene speaks, looking up from the balls of wool she’s been knitting together into what looks to be a jumper. “You’re looking well.”

Smiling, Vanessa hands the small piece of rope to Johnny who shakes it and pulls at either end. “Little bit sore, but better than I did.” She says, chancing a glance up in Charity’s direction and finds emerald green eyes gazing at her softly. “Got a half decent nurse taking care of me.”

“ _Bet_ you do.” Ryan pipes up smugly, rolling his eyes when Irene nudges him with a warning bump to his elbow. “What? I was just agreeing with her.”

Vanessa laughs, holding her side when the muscles pull at the stitches keeping her together. “Where’s Dawn?” She quips, smirking when a deep red blush rises up Ryan’s neck and floods his cheeks.

“Don’t embarrass him, Ness.” Charity teases as she ties up the wheel and comes to flop down beside Vanessa, giving Johnny’s hair a ruffle.

He leans into the contact and smiles up at her, squinting against the sun. “Big boat.”

Chuckling, Charity holds her hand out for the rope which he passes to her without question and she ties a simple knot for him before handing it back. “Ship.” She corrects but he shakes his head, shrugging off her comment as he tries to untie the rope.

When Johnny turns to look up between Vanessa and Charity, beaming, he holds the untangled rope above his head in triumph and lets out a high bitched squeal of victory. “Fixed it.” He says.

“Clever,” Charity returns his smile, “just like your mummy.” She winks at Vanessa before removing her hat and places it on Johnny’s head.

“How about we go find that woman of yours?” Irene pipes up but her words fall on deaf ears, Charity and Vanessa lost in their own little world but Ryan nods in understanding and helps Irene to her feet. But before she makes to move towards the steps, she pauses and turns to Charity. “Thank you,” she says, drawing the other woman from her moment of peace, “for coming back for us.”

“No bother.” Charity replies passively but Vanessa can hear the affection that hides behind her words nonetheless.

Vanessa waits until Irene and Ryan are out of ear shot before she turns to Charity, dropping her head to her shoulder. “Are they in trouble, too?” Charity only nods in response, tying another knot in the rope for Johnny to fix. “‘Cause of us?”

“No.” She replies quick and sure and takes Vanessa’s healing hand in her own. “Graham told Bails about Ryan.”

“Bails is dead.” Vanessa mutters it like a question, needing one last piece of conformation to settle the broken fragments of her body.

Charity tightens her grip on Vanessa’s hand carefully and pulls it to her lips, kissing the torn skin of her palm then turns to do the same with the other hand. “He ordered for their arrest before Tracy shot him, Ness, before he took you to Port Royal.”

It still seems so surreal to her now, the events that had transpired while she’d been slumped in a broken heap on the wood of the dock. Vanessa had listened to Charity and Tracy as though they were reading straight from a page of a book. Tracy had shot Bails, moments before he could drop the knife down into Vanessa’s lifeless body, finishing him off before he could cause any more harm to anyone else. The whole idea makes her laugh, the Governor’s daughter’s both turning to a life of piracy.

Charity’s lips come to rest at Vanessa’s temple when she doesn’t reply. “It’s too dangerous for any of us.” Her breath comes out in a ghost like breath, hot, that sends shivers racing down Vanessa’s spine. “The best thing we can do now is lay low for a while.”

Allowing her eyes to flutter shut, Vanessa revels in the quiet moment that’s become so rare for them. “You’ve always been a wanted person, though.” She says. “How’s this any different?”

Charity gives a weak shrug, winding her arm around Vanessa’s back to tug her closer, careful not to jostle her too much. “I never had much to lose before now.” Vanessa stays quiet, watching Johnny twist his hands as he tries to knot the rope himself, tongue jutting out between his lips in concentration and both women find themselves smiling affectionately at the sight. “Always figured my kids were better off without me, always had someone there doing a better job than me.”

“Charity, you know that’s not true.” Vanessa says quickly, leaning back so that she can look at Charity properly. “Those kids of yours adore you. ‘Specially that one.” Vanessa tilts her head up to where Noah is crouching on the rigging by the crow’s nest, laughing animatedly at Aaron.

Charity’s lips tug at the corner into a weak smile and she sighs. “I guess after everything that’s happened lately,” she shrugs again, “I’ve realised I _do_ need them and…” she trails off and shakes her head as a faint red blush creeps up the pale skin of her neck, finding her own confession absurd. “I need you.” Charity looks away quickly when Vanessa’s mouth cracks into an affectionate grin. Johnny begins to fuss when the rope doesn’t cooperate, and it gives Charity the opportunity to busy herself. “Y’know,” Charity reaches out for the rope and ties a double knot in the centre. “You told me a couple of months ago,” Johnny grunts comically, trying to squeeze his fingers through the gaps in the rope before he gives up and drops it to the deck with a huff. “That I saved you. And _yeah_ , I did…” Charity says with a cheeky grin, hoisting Johnny into her lap.

“So modest.” Vanessa says with a teasing roll of her eyes that draws a breathy chuckle from Charity.

“But I think you saved me an’ all.” All the teasing seems to seep out of Charity’s tone instantly and her face becomes deadly serious, her features sobering into one of affection. “In so many ways, Ness.”

“Charity.” But she can’t seem to get her mouth to comply, it opens and closes soundlessly, but nothing rises around the lump in her throat. For lack of words, Vanessa leans in and places her lips lightly to the corner of Charity’s mouth.

“God, what has she done to me?” Charity sighs out with feigned exasperation, tossing her hands into the air, a movement that makes Johnny giggle at the sight.  

“Mummy.” He says pointing to Vanessa and then turns back to Charity with a boyish grin, proud of himself.

“Yeah, she’s melting my brain, that mummy of yours.” And then something crosses Charity’s face that sends the heat from Vanessa’s heart shooting down her body to pool low in her stomach. “Speaking of brain melting, how ‘bout you an’ me…” She trails off as she makes a shameless gesture with her hand before pointing her fingers to the cabin below them.

Vanessa lets out a scandalised scoff and slaps playfully at Charity’s arm. “You’re incorrigible.”

-

Humming quietly, Vanessa drops her forehead to Charity’s shoulder and lets her eyes flutter closed as the other woman’s fingertips tickle gentle patterns to the skin of Vanessa’s bare thighs from her position beneath her.

Vanessa barely notices the stiffness in her side anymore, the wound having healed to leave a raised line of scar tissue behind. She doesn’t like looking at it, but Charity makes a point of peppering light kisses over remnants of the wound at night and presses careful touches to it when they’re not alone, if only to make a point to Vanessa that it’s not as ugly as she thinks, doesn’t make her hideous like she feels…

Tonight, is no different, the tips of Charity’s fingers steadily work their way up from Vanessa’s thigh, up her hip before finding the puckered skin of the injury. It’s an instinctive reaction, one she’s been working on trying to not let happen, but Vanessa feels the curve in her spine straighten and she pulls her head from the crook of Charity’s neck. She doesn’t open her eyes, however, instead choosing to keep them clamped shut because she’s grown all too familiar with the softness that she finds swimming in those deep pools of tropical green and the empathy and compassion that flights between them makes Vanessa realise how much more they both suddenly understand one another.

It’s an odd feeling, not uncomfortable, but not one she’s entirely used to, either. It makes her cling to Charity that little bit tighter, a moment longer, and Charity lets her, holds her close until she’s ready to let go.

But sometimes the unpleasant texture of her scar reminds her of the ugliness that had been enveloped within Bails, and the destruction and torment he’d carried with him. Flashes of his smug face in Tortuga and his towering body looming above her with flames burning behind him, flare hot and painful when Vanessa sleeps, when she allows her mind to wander while Johnny plays on the deck of the Merciless.

They don’t come as frequent or as sudden as they had done for the first couple of weeks, but they bring with them the same intensity of fear and rage each time.

“Stop thinking about him.” Vanessa almost misses the sound of Charity’s hushed voice but the wisps of hot air that ghosts across her lips finally pull her eyes open. She feels herself falling for those green eyes every time, every time they look at her this way or that, when the sunlight catches them just right and a blazing wildfire engulfs her, every time it feels like a fresh wave of emotion is filling her from her very core.

Charity strokes her thumb across the high bone of Vanessa’s cheek. “He’s gone, you don’t need to waste anymore of your time on him.” She effortlessly pulls Vanessa from that dark cell of memories, willing her to return to her place on the bed with Charity holding her close.

Vanessa lets out a shaky sigh. “Tell me again?”

If Charity feels any ounce of annoyance at the fact that she’s having to retell the story of their last visit to Port Royal, she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she only seems willing to reassure any worries Vanessa may be feeling in that moment, and her hands come to settle firmly on her hips, drawing her in impossibly closer. “We left some barrels of gunpowder by the Queen Mary, we were gonna blow it up on our way out, y’know, make a statement…” Vanessa nods her head only, echoing Charity’s words within her own mind having heard them countless times already.

Charity keeps her fingers massaging soothing circles into the skin at Vanessa’s hips, the movement seemingly ebbs away at tormenting memories until they’re nothing more than a whispering reminder of what happened.

“But then you ran off after him and ruined the whole plan, you daft idiot.” Vanessa lets out a breathless, watery laugh, allowing her forehead to drop back to its previous position in the crook of Charity’s neck. “So, when those guards surrounded you, Noah tried shooting them down. Missed of course, didn’t he?” With a scoff that’s more amusement that anger, Charity turns to place a gentle kiss to Vanessa’s temple. “Could have killed him when those barrels exploded.”

Vanessa winds her fingers into Charity’s hair, her nails subconsciously digging into the other woman’s skin, gentle but desperate. “Then what?” She asks.

Charity’s hands leave their position on Vanessa’s hips and come to circle around her back, falling to the dip of her spine. “I can’t really remember much after that, completely terrified, I was. The three of us came charging down the docks like lunatics, next thing I know, you’re on the ground, Tracy has Noah’s gun and she’s just shooting at Bails’ back.” Charity lets out a shuddering breath of her own, Vanessa hears it catch in her throat and she pulls back to regain eye contact, needing that extra bit of reassurance that everything’s still okay. “God, Ness…” But once the words are out of her mouth, Charity lunges forward and crashes her lips against Vanessa’s in a frantic kiss that reignites the hunger that had been there minutes before, plunging them back into the depths of a lustful ocean that encompasses them both in the privacy of their quarters.

“You’re okay.” Charity’s words come breathless, panting heavily as she pulls away from the kiss to draw oxygen into her lungs. Her hands come up to cup Vanessa’s face, thumbs stroking across the flushed skin of her cheeks.

Nodding assuredly, Vanessa lets the corner of her mouth curve up into a soft smile as she ducks to drop her forehead to Charity’s. There’s no need for a reply, she’s certain of the fact, and so is Charity, the way her hands loosen slightly of their desperate hold on her body, reassures the pair of them. “Thank you.” Vanessa says after a moment, her fingers still working light circles into Charity’s scalp.

For a long while after that, all the two women can do is gaze into one another’s eyes as if seeing them for the first time, memorizing each fleck of green and blue, silver and amber. So, when a quiet knock raps gently on their door, they both startle, Vanessa lets out a squeak of surprise and straightens up.

“Who is it?” Charity snaps irritably as she eases Vanessa off her lap and down to her side, tugging the sheet over their bare chests.

There’s a moment’s hesitation before the voice on the other side of the door calls back. “Just me…” Tracy. “But if you’re busy, I can come back?” There’s a note of knowing amusement to her tone, one that draws a burning blush up Vanessa’s cheeks.

“Come in.” Charity says when she tightens her hold on the sheet to lean over the edge of the bed and picks up her discarded shirt.

When Tracy opens to door, her hand is plastered across her eyes mockingly with a grin that shows her teeth. “You kids cooled off?” She makes a show of peeking through the gap in her fingers and laughs when she catches the exaggerated roll of Charity’s eyes.

“What’s up, Trace?” Vanessa asks, wiggling up the headboard into a sitting position.

“Cain wanted to see you both.” She says and drops her hand in favour of trailing a delicate finger over a shelf of the bookcase on the opposite side of the room. Charity takes the opportunity while Tracy’s back is turned, to throw on her shirt, rolling off the edge of the bed gracelessly in search of the rest of her clothes.  

Grunting as she tugs on her trousers, Charity manages a mumbled, “he say why?”

Vanessa smiles at the sight of the other woman hopping on one foot clumsily. It’s still something she’s getting used to; being included when it comes to these types of conversations with Cain and Charity. She’s no longer left waiting alone in the cabin below deck or has a need to aimlessly busy herself with injured crew members with Paddy while the other woman deals with business up at the helm. Now, Vanessa’s integrated in such discussions. She assumes her time with Cain on the Queen Anne has had a hand in that, altering his opinion of her, proving her capability in a time that both Cain and Vanessa needed the assurance most.

“Nah.” Tracy mutters distantly. “This is mine.” She says with an accusing arch of her brow, a small book held securely in her hand. It’s one that’s been taken from their house back in Port Royal that first night. Vanessa hasn’t noticed when she’s gone hunting for something to read, the dusting having apparently gathered on top of it quickly, blending it in with the rest.

Shooting Tracy with a disinterested look, Charity shrugs before giving Vanessa a small smirk. “Mine now.” She’s teasing, Vanessa knows only because she’s grown so used to the slight lilt to her tone, the way her voice raises towards the end of the sentence. When Tracy makes a move to protest, Charity lets out a teasing snigger. “I’m joking, take it.”

“Is Billy coping alright with Johnny?” Vanessa speaks up eventually, taking her shirt from Charity’s hand when she climbs back onto the bed beside her. Tracy averts her eyes quickly, turning back to the bookshelf.

“’Course.” Tracy says with a nod but despite her back being to Vanessa, she catches the smile in her voice. “They’re drawing you a picture, apparently.”

The smile grows on Vanessa’s face and she turns to Charity, feeling the urge to share her happiness with someone who understands. Charity’s hand reaches across the bed to squeeze her own and then gently tugs her forwards so she can peck a gentle kiss against the corner of her mouth.

“Surprised you managed to drag yourself away from him.” Charity quips.

“Not as surprised as the rest of the ship were when the noise from this room stopped.” Tracy fires back just as quick, silencing any snide remarks that Charity may have ready on the tip of her tongue.

Both Vanessa and Charity exchange slightly panicked and embarrassed looks, Charity offering up a silent apology in the form of a wince before her face sobers and she turns back to Tracy. “Well, it’s been a while hasn’t it.” She snaps. “We haven’t exactly been able to do anything. Between you, Johnny and the hole in your sister’s stomach…”

“Oh my god.” Vanessa mutters into her hands, burying her face to hide the blush. Tracy can only squeal out her amusement as Charity continues on, either choosing to ignore the reactions her words invoke or cares too little to bother.

“ _I’m_ surprised we came up for air.”

“ _Charity_.” Vanessa warns as her sister’s laughter grows ever louder, delighted by the easy back and forth that surprises even Vanessa. She supposes she’s missed a lot while she’s been bed laden for weeks while Paddy healed her wounds, but despite her discomfort at the topic of conversation, she can’t deny the warmth that the ease between Charity and Tracy brings her. 

Charity turns to Vanessa with her hands held up defensively. “It’s true, though, isn’t it?”

Without giving a reply, Vanessa stands and hurriedly pulls on her trousers while Tracy continues to laugh and Charity follows behind her, whining for some sort agreement until Vanessa makes her way out through the open door and up to the helm.

-

Johnny’s eyes gaze up at the looming, white wall of fog that towers behind them, mesmerised in the same way Vanessa had been the instance she’d encountered the sight on her first visit to the hidden island. His little hands dig into her collarbones as he climbs up her body, trying to gain a better position in his mother’s arms in order to keep his eyes trained on the wall as the ship gives a sharp tilt to avoid a wreckage amongst a pile of rocks.

“Easy does it.” Charity’s voice comes through gritted teeth beside Vanessa, her hands gripping the rudder tightly, turning it hurriedly back to an upright position. “That’s a new one.” Pointing towards the wrecked ship with waves disrupting its settlement, it slowly begins to sink below the surface of the unnaturally calm water.

“One of Bails’?” Cain grunts, righting himself against the swaying back and forth.

Eyeing the last of the wooden bow, Vanessa spots the gold painted mermaid, not dissimilar to the one she’s recognised on the Queen Anne. “Looks it.” She says, gesturing with a tilt of her head, the movement draws Johnny down from her shoulder and back into arms that wrap securely around him.

“Didn’t make it far.” Charity scoffs smugly, the corner of her mouth tilting upwards with her eyebrow in a smirk. “No surprise, though, is it?” She adds, her voice lowering as though she’s only addressing herself as she speaks. “Not many do.”

Charity’s cockiness pulls an involuntary smile from Vanessa that she quickly tries to hide around a roll of her eyes when she turns to face her. “Better watch where you’re going.” Vanessa says.

“Don’t need to.” She arrogance doesn’t leave Charity once. “Hey, Johnnybobs, want to have a look at the sharks?”

Johnny’s interest is suddenly piqued, and he yanks at Vanessa’s hair to get her to move towards the edge. Just as they had the last time they’d sailed through this way, the hammer head sharks below, circle in ominous loops, trailing in the Mercliess’ wake.

“Looket!” Johnny dangles the upper part of his body out across the water causing Vanessa to let out a quiet gasp, gripping him tightly under his arms.

“Be careful.” She says quickly but lets him watch for a moment longer until the ship takes another turn along the edge of a jagged cliff face. It doesn’t look at all inviting. It’s grey and cold, scarred by the incessant wash of the waves and molten rock that had once flown into the sea bellow. The perfect hiding spot for a group of pirates wanted by the king.

With the final turn of the ship, dipping into the pebbled and sandy cove, the stinging scent of sulphur eases into a fresh breeze that immediately settles a welcoming feeling upon the ship. That same excited happiness ripples through the crew just as it had done two months prior, this time, Vanessa feels it, too, and she makes her way to stand beside Charity, feeling a strong arm circle instinctively around her waist.

“Welcome home.” Charity smiles gently, planting a kiss to Vanessa’s temple before she turns to face Johnny in Vanessa’s arms. “You want to come meet everyone?”

With a nod, albeit a hesitant one, Johnny gives Charity a wide and toothy smile before burrowing his face deep into the crook of Vanessa’s neck. The simple action and the way he clings on that little bit tighter, never fails to thaw the last of the frost from Vanessa’s heart, it expends with a pleasing thud deep inside her chest each time and like clockwork, she turns her own face to his hair and inhales the lingering scent of sea air.

“I’ll meet you on the dock in a few, yeah?” Charity says lowly, her mouth close to the shell of Vanessa’s ear. “Gotta talk to Noah and his lot.”

Nodding, Vanessa drops a fleeting kiss to Charity’s cheek before she makes her way down to their quarters to gather some of their belongings.

She finds Tracy and Billy hovering at the bottom of the steps waiting for her. They both look up in unison and the sight doesn’t fail to make Vanessa smile. “Give me a hand?” She says, bouncing Johnny on her hip when she makes her way past them and towards the door below the helm.

A strange sensation settles somewhere low in her gut, however, the second she steps over the threshold. The uncertainty of whether she’ll ever step foot in the captain’s quarters again lays heavily over her chest for a long moment, bringing her to a slow pause in the centre of the room. She places Johnny down slowly and he shoots off towards the bed, her eyes following him for a second before they begin to travel around the rest of the space, over surfaces she’s trailed the tips of her fingers over numerous times before, the dresser, the desk where Charity occupied most of the time, the couch and the bookcase to the display cabinet in the far corner.

Vanessa catches her own reflection in the glass of the stained window and an almost sad smile replaces the one that had previously sat there. It’ll be a strange thing, she thinks, to never see the insides of this room again. The Merciless has been her home for nearly nine months now, her safe place with Charity and the rest of the crew.

She shakes herself out of it quickly, packing Johnny’s things into a bag along with her own belongings and then Charity’s in a separate one with her books and papers. Billy hoists them up onto his shoulders once she’s done and the four of them make their way back outside in time to hear Charity calling for the anchor to be dropped.

Vanessa looks up and finds Charity letting out a heavy sigh as Noah comes down the steps towards them, smiling the same way as his mother does. Vanessa watches patiently as Charity guides her hand across the top of the rudder and along the ledge behind it, scooping up with it, her map, sextant and compass. It confirms the tingling in her stomach, Charity bidding her ship a final goodbye, wordlessly placing her hat under her arm.

She doesn’t make a move to come down the steps just yet, though, and Vanessa understands. Helping Johnny up onto the plank, instead, she follows carefully behind him as he babbles incoherently, winding his fingers around Vanessa’s hand. The same crowd of people are stood waiting to greet them, this time with Debbie and the kids firmly at the front.

Johnny and Moses become best friends the second they meet and that night, in favour of staying away from the ‘grownups,’ Irene offers to keep an eye on them while the crew of the Merciless pack themselves into the Woolpack. The alcohol’s served fast and excessively and Faith offers to help Chas behind the bar while Charity huddles in a far corner with Cain, whispering hurriedly between themselves.

Vanessa can’t help but let concerned eyes wander over to where the pair are hiding, tuning out of her conversation with Tracy, but her sister doesn’t seem all that fussed, quickly turning to Billy who’s more than willing to have her attention. The way Charity’s jaw tightens and her shoulders square as Cain throws his hands into the air in what looks to be exasperation, Vanessa almost expects Charity to throw a punch, recognising the expression on the other woman’s face as irritation almost immediately. But the swing of her arm doesn’t come, and to her surprise, Charity’s face softens apologetically, slumping back into her chair in defeat. They slip into a repetitive back and forth, one or the other turning defensive while the other turns aggressive, Charity, more often than not, choses to stay quiet and indignantly sips on the large bottle of wine that was likely brought over for them to share. Whatever they’re discussing, Vanessa observes, it’s not something Cain wants to hear.

“What they talking ‘bout?” Paddy’s voice pulls Vanessa from her daze and she looks up to find him hovering nearby.

Shrugging, she gestures to the vacant seat beside her, one she had hoped Charity would take but she’s too preoccupied now, it would seem. “No idea.” Despite her words, however, there’s a niggling feeling in the back of her mind that tells her she’s lying.

Paddy hums, accepting her response regardless of the lack of any substantial answer. He sits down beside her, jostling the table and spilling their drinks. “Sorry.” He mumbles quickly with an embarrassed giggle, his face turning pink. “Too much to drink.”

Mopping up the mess with a dirty rag, Vanessa gives him an unwavering smile. “Chas happy to see you home?”

He nods enthusiastically at that. “Very. Mind you,” Paddy pauses to push his glasses further up his nose, “she wasn’t best pleased when she found out tha’ we all went an’ got matching tattoos.”

For a fleeting moment, Vanessa finds herself at a loss as to what he’s talking about but the itchy skin on her wrist where the raised scarring of a brand sits, draws her attention. “I’m not surprised.” She scoffs around a laugh, rolling up her sleeve to lay her wrist down beside Paddy’s. “We could have gotten something prettier.” She turns her nose up at the angry red skin.

Paddy finds the comment hilarious, tipping his head back as a high-pitched laugh fills the bar, mixing in with the rest of the low rumbling chatter. “I once knew a bloke who let his friends get him really drunk once… ended up god knows where…” He carries on laughing between each breath, and it continues to pull at the smile on Vanessa’s face. “When he woke up the next morning, well it were more like afternoon really, brunch maybe? Anyway, when he woke up, he realised he’d gotten a tattoo on his-”

“Not interrupting, am I?” Charity saves Vanessa from hearing the last of the sentence just as Paddy begins to gesture below the table to somewhere she doesn’t want to picture ever being tattooed. Or picture at all actually…

“Oh, not at all.” Paddy says grinning, quickly turning back to Vanessa, intent on finishing off his story when Charity taps him purposefully on his shoulder.

“Padster, you’ve known me for years now, when ‘ave I ever been polite?” She arches a brow in question and crosses her arms over her chest. Paddy flounders for the correct response, whether the question is rhetorical or not, it falls on oblivious ears, and he continues to grasp for an answer until Charity jerks her head for him to shift out of her seat. “Up.”

“Right,” he says quickly, “of course…” his belly catches the table again and more of their drinks spill haphazardly.

Charity gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes and mops up the mess, but to Vanessa’s surprise, she doesn’t take the vacated seat beside her. “Everything alright?”

The smile that Charity sends her is instantly heart-warming. “Yeah.” She leans down to kiss Vanessa but straightens quicker than she likes, before it can deepen into anything else, much to Vanessa’s disappointment. “Listen up you miserable lot!” Charity barks suddenly, making Vanessa jump so high that she spills her own drink down the side of her hand.

The Woolpack falls silent and the whole room turns to their captain.

“I’m not about to go on a long tirade about how great you’ve all been…” she trails of as a responding cheer erupts. “Because you’re not, you need to learn to wash, honestly stinks in ‘ere.” Charity jokes and even Vanessa finds herself laughing along. “But I do want to say I’m impressed with a certain lot of you, the seven who sailed the Queen Anne to Tortuga.” It’s all Charity looks as though she’s willing to say on the matter, but she chances a quick glance down to Vanessa, catching her eyes and lets a small smile tug at her lips.

“The scandalous seven.” Jimmy’s voice calls out from somewhere at the back of the tavern and the interruption makes Charity’s lips form a thin line.

“The shocking seven more like.” She mutters but its loud enough for everyone to hear. “Because you were all so _shockingly_ bad at staying out of trouble.” She feigns an embarssed grimace as she begins to address the rest of the room again, Charity reaches out blindly but finds Vanessa’s hand as if they were somehow magnetised through the air separating them. “Anyway.” She says, but her tone loses its humour, the change not going unnoticed amongst the crew who begin to shuffle uneasily within their seats. It’s all Vanessa can do to remain still, starring up at Charity with a buzz of concern rising within her. “I want to get back to this wine, so I’ll make it quick.”

Vanessa strokes her thumb over Charity’s hand, sensing the tension in the air.

“I’m stepping down.” Billy tips in his chair to glance down at Charity’s feet, along with a number of other’s in the room who all shift to get a better look at the ground she’s standing on. “Cain will be the new captain of the Merciless.”

The thrum that fills the Woolpack is almost deafening, but Charity doesn’t say anything else, finally dropping down into the chair beside Vanessa, pulling her into her side without another word. “Charity?” Vanessa whispers close to her ear, needing to say something, _anything_ to get some sort of clarification. Her minds reeling, although the news hasn’t come as a complete shock to her.

“Surprised?” Charity asks around the lip of her bottle, taking a purposeful sip when Vanessa shrugs. “Should I not have assumed?” This time, her voice comes through a wave of panic and Vanessa jumps to reassure Charity before she can start spiralling.

“Charity,” She says again, squeezing the hand in her own tightly. “Where ever you are, that’s where I’ll be.” Vanessa gives a simple shrug, smiling. “If that’s out there on the ship or here, it doesn’t matter.” She leans in and presses her lips to Charity’s cheek. “Not if you’re with me and the boys.”

It seems to do the trick because Charity’s shoulders ease into something softer, losing their sharp edges and she returns Vanessa’s smile. “C’mere.” She says softly, tugging Vanessa to her by the nape of her neck so she can kiss her again.

As innocent as it starts out, the heat in the room quickly rises and Charity’s hands turn needy when they pull teasingly on Vanessa’s belt, pulling a deep moan from low in her throat. “If you keep doing that…”

“Would you two just go get a room already?” Tracy snaps, purposefully leaning into Billy’s side so as to avoid Charity and Vanessa’s heated moment, the pair leaning precariously against the table.

Pulling away with a second of regret crossing her face, Charity arches a thoughtful eyebrow and stands. “Not a bad idea, that.” Thrusting out her hand towards Vanessa. “What d’ya say? Quickie?”

Vanessa takes the offered hand, giggling eagerly as Charity drags them both through the swarm that hover around the bar, ignoring Tracy’s protests from behind and the curious glances that are thrown their way. “Charity,” she calls behind, still laughing with a light airy feeling overflowing from her heart. “Slow down.” When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Charity whirls around and pins Vanessa sharply to the wall, mouth latching on to the soft skin of her neck instantly.

But before anything can intensify beneath the simmering heat between them, the door behind the two women opens and Irene pokes her head through the gap. She clears her throat loudly when neither seem to notice her, and a scolding expression meets startled onces. “Boys are still awake in their room.” She says simply before she wraps herself in her shoal and wanders past them, making her way out into the bar. “They might want a bedtime story.”

Dropping her forehead to Vanessa’s shoulder, Charity lets out a breathless laugh that sends a shiver racing down her spine. “Come on,” She says eventually, pushing Charity gently. “Let’s go to bed.”

Charity lets Vanessa lead her up the stairs, keeping their hands tightly knitted together. “S’pose I’ll have to start getting used to sleeping in a bed that doesn’t slide half way across the room when it’s windy.”

Turning to peer over her shoulder, Vanessa grins down at Charity, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively before her face sobers into a wistful expression. “The Lady Tate: Merciless no more…”

Charity snorts. “Hate that name.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes playfully. “The Widow, then.”

“And that one.”

Vanessa slows, the sound of Johnny and Moses chattering away radiates from the room at the end of the hallway above them. “Should we just stick with Ms Dingle, then?”

Before they can reach the last step, however, Charity tugs gently on Vanessa’s hand, bringing them to a complete halt. Vanessa turns, surprised by the blissfully calm eyes that stare up at her, filling her chest with an excited warmth that hums around her heart. There’s something on the tip of Charity’s tongue, waiting for her own brain to catch up before she voices the words in the static air between them. “How does Mrs Dingle sound?”

Vanessa feels herself beaming against Charity’s lips before she even realises that she’s kissing her. Her hands winding needy and desperate into long blonde, sea curled, hair and she backs them up the stairs carefully. “Sounds perfect.” Vanessa sighs against Charity’s hot breath when the door down the hallway opens quietly.

“Mummy?” Two small voices call out at the same time and Charity and Vanessa turn in unison to find both of their sons grinning up at them, their smiles don’t match like they do their mothers but they’re theirs nonetheless, their boys. “Tell us about the pirates again?”


End file.
